


Everything We Are

by elem (elem44)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elem44/pseuds/elem
Summary: Written for the 2009 Secret Santa exchange.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My request from csoulmatej was as follows:
> 
>  
> 
> _I’d like a story with Kathryn and Paris. He’s always had a crush on her, but she’s just realizing that the reason he always seems to be her favorite is because she has feelings for him. They start a relationship in secret and are successful keeping it that way; except from Chakotay who catches Paris coming from Kathryn’s quarters one night (he’s on his way back from being with Seven). Chakotay gets angry over the whole thing. When Kathryn finds herself pregnant, they’re afraid their secret will be out, but Chakotay’s secret relationship with Seven comes to light and takes center stage…and then the fun begins because Paris remembers the punches Chakotay gave him after he found out about Kathryn and Tom. Something along these lines would be nice._
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to Kim J for the beta and to Corinna and audabee for the read throughs. But as always, I’ve fiddled with it so any mistakes are mine.

### Chapter One

Tom stood in the shadows outside Engineering and watched as B’Elanna and her latest lover strolled arm in arm down the corridor. Their heads were tilted towards one another as they whispered and laughed; hips bumping, hands stroking, their excitement trailing behind them like a comet tail. After they disappeared around the corner and out of sight, Tom closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and slammed his fist against the bulkhead.

_Fuck!_

Flexing the fingers of his now sore hand, he flopped back against the grey wall and blasted an angry breath from between gritted teeth. So, B’Elanna’s latest bed-mate was Susan Nicoletti. His lip curled cynically. She was making short work of the female Engineering staff and he wondered what had happened to Mariah Henley – last week’s conquest. Maybe she was somewhere punching walls as well. The thought cheered him momentarily but goddamn it, the whole thing pissed him off something fierce. Nursing his damaged hand, he swung around and trudged up the corridor in the opposite direction to his ex-fiancé and her new lover.

B’Elanna’s change of heart and sexual predilections had come as something of a shock to Tom – although, when he thought about it, he should have realised that she would never have been happy in a traditional monogamous relationship. What galled him though was that he’d been more than willing to accommodate her penchant for female company. He wasn’t a prude and had never been squeamish about sexual experimentation; some of the things he and Harry had gotten up to over the years on the holodeck would have raised an eyebrow or two. In fact, if he hadn’t fallen head over heels in love with B’Elanna, he would have happily continued with his carefree and lascivious ways. But his love for her had been so all-consuming that he’d wanted to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her. More fool him, and like some pre-ordained and all-too-familiar kick in the nuts, his dreams had gone to hell, and here he was again, out in the cold, cut loose and left to pick up the pieces of his fucked up life.

God, he needed a drink.

It was early evening and most of the crew were either on duty or still in the Mess hall having dinner. Sandrine’s was blissfully quiet and it meant he could hide in the corner with his bottle of ‘80 proof’ without being disturbed – not that anyone was likely to come near him. On a vessel as small as Voyager, news travelled at warp speed and none of his crewmates would be surprised to find him drowning his sorrows in a bottle of authentic liquor; synthehol just didn’t cut it under these circumstances. Besides, they’d been on this ‘Voyage of the Damned’ for so long now that people were pretty adept at minding their own business – within reason. He just needed some time alone to get his head together; to shed this anger and resentment that was crawling like ants under his skin and gain some perspective on life’s latest calamity.

Punching something or someone had its appeal and it had crossed his mind to start a bar brawl but the thought of having to explain his behaviour to the captain, put up with the Doctor’s holier-than-thou pontificating or, god forbid, endure a reaming from Chakotay, put the brakes on that idea. He’d also been tempted to contact Harry and see if he wanted to revisit the Captain Proton program and do some damage to Chaotica and his henchmen but discarded that idea as well. Harry was seriously involved with the Delaney twins and with two demanding women to keep happy, he hardly saw his friend these days. It seemed that everyone was gleefully pairing off and he was the only one left to endure his own company.

The door to Sandrine’s swung open and he instantly amended that last thought. He wasn’t the only one. The Captain entered – alone – and looked around the room. She was wearing civilian clothes – a simple dark coloured dress that flattered her figure, her hair loose and curling softly around her face. It was a rare treat to see her like this and he watched her closely as her eyes scanned the room. Her gaze met his and he gave her full marks for hiding her surprise. Janeway nodded her head in recognition and Tom returned the gesture before sinking back into the shadows to allow her some space.

Gone were the days when you could expect Chakotay to be following two paces behind her. Tom wasn’t sure what had happened, but the command team’s relationship had suffered some sort of catastrophic blowout in recent months. Although he knew he shouldn’t feel this way, he was relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one aboard who was a failure in the relationship stakes.

The Captain and Chakotay seemed to be coping admirably with the change in dynamics and Tom felt envious of their composure and self-assurance.

But of course, to this day, no one was really sure if they’d ever been intimate. Perhaps not, and that’s why they appeared so unaffected, but after all of those years together, it was hard to imagine that they hadn’t been lovers. Then again, the Captain was renowned for being a stickler for the rules and Chakotay had always had her perched so high on a damned pedestal that Tom doubted the man could reach her with a ladder, let alone owned the cojones to take what he wanted.

Now, if he’d been in Chakotay’s shoes, it would have been a different story…

Tom watched Janeway through narrowed eyes, his vision hazy from alcohol. She was laughing with Sandrine after sending the gigolo scampering with a dagger-eyed look and a rapier sharp putdown. It was great to see her so relaxed and it showed on her face. Her smile was broad, her eyes sparkling and her mannerisms easy and carefree.

Blinking a couple of times, Tom leaned forward and looked more intently. Damn! When had he stopped noticing what a good-looking woman she was? Since B’Elanna had filled his sights, he supposed, but as Janeway rested one cheek of her ass on a barstool, his gaze made a slow and studied sweep over the outline of her hip, down her thigh and ending at her slender ankle. She lifted her arm and ran her fingers through her hair before laughing again. The sound was throaty and sexy and Tom could feel himself hardening. Shit! That was all he needed – a hard-on with no prospect of relief. It looked like he had a date with his right hand tonight. With a disgruntled sigh, he slumped lower in his chair.

His eyes, however, remained riveted to his captain as he reached for the bottle, poured himself another shot and tossed it down in one gulp. Damn she was beautiful – sassy and sexy, with the whole power trip thing as a perfect sweetener; the ‘Janeway package’ was a definite turn on.

Contrary to its usual numbing effects, the alcohol seemed to have un-addled his brain and he felt as though he was seeing clearly for the first time in months. He’d always known that Kathryn Janeway was easy on the eye – you’d have to be half dead not to notice – and he’d had a chronic crush on her early in the voyage, but Chakotay had marked her as his territory, and Tom had moved on to greener pastures – B’Elanna. But that was over now and he could see no reason why he couldn’t indulge himself and fantasize about remote possibilities.

He knew that he didn’t have a hope in hell. She thought of him as no more than her amusing and at-times adolescent pilot, and hooking up with him would have been the last thing on her mind. Although, if one wanted to split hairs, technically he’d had sex with her _and_ spawned offspring – ‘spawned’ being the operative word. His warp ten stunt four years ago had been the cause of that unattractive mutation but it had always been one of his deep regrets that he couldn’t remember anything about the encounter – zilch. Even a vague memory of having amphibian sex with her would have been better than nothing, but he had no recollection at all.

He sighed again and watched as another one of the holo-gigolos tried to buy her a drink and insinuate himself into her personal space. Tom was surprised by the pang of jealousy that came spearing out of left field to hit him right under his sternum. What the hell was that about? He took a closer look at the bottle of whisky in front of him and wondered if he was drunker than he’d thought. He had no reason _or right_ to be jealous. It was probably caused by the booze but his rigid cock told another story and over the years he’d come to trust it like a homing beacon.

His eyes latched onto Janeway again as he slowly sipped his drink and enjoyed the view. She possessed a sensuality and passion that simmered just below the surface, guiding every move of the outwardly spick and span Starfleet officer. These traits were well camouflaged by her command presence but now that he was paying closer attention, it all seemed glaringly obvious and incredibly seductive. From the toss of her head and the hint of pouting cleavage peeking above the bodice of her dress, to the slide of her hand down her thigh and the wanton tilt of her hips, she oozed sensuality. God, he would love to get his hands on her and he imagined for a moment leaning her back against the bar, pushing her dress up her legs before he slid her panties off and buried his face between her thighs.

She’d be sweet, he could tell, different from B’Elanna’s heady musk but just as intoxicating. Moving uncomfortably, he adjusted himself in his pants, and then felt a presence behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he found the first gigolo leaning up against the neighbouring booth, his eyes also on Janeway.

He leaned towards Tom and in a heavily accented, conspiratorial hiss, whispered in his ear. “She would make love like a lioness, that one – fierce and raw. She’s all heat and passion and it would be a sight to behold as she screamed your name and came apart your arms. You want her too, non?”

Tom glared at the spiv, then spoke quietly. “Computer, delete gigolo ‘one’ from Sandrine program.” In his inebriated state, he was having enough trouble maintaining rational thought without his holographic evil twin whispering in his ear. To make matters worse, Janeway stretched and arched her back, her breasts pressing against the material of her dress. There wasn’t anything particularly come-hither about the move; she was oblivious to his intense gaze but it was enough to send his imagination into a tailspin.

He shook his head, dragging his eyes away from her to try to break the spell, but just when he thought it was safe to return to his morose meanderings, Janeway slid from her stool and made her way to his table.

_Shit!_

He took a healthy swig of whisky and hunched forward, leaning his elbows on the table to hide the nightmare in his pants.

“Good evening, Tom. Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?” She pointed to the chair opposite him.

He made a half-hearted attempt to stand but for decorum’s sake, only rose an inch off his seat. “Evening, Captain. Sure, please, help yourself.”

She sat down and nodded towards the bottle. “Settling in for a long night, I see.”

He shrugged. “Day off and nothing else to do.”

He tried to hold her gaze but feared she would read the raw lust in his eyes, so he concentrated on the glass in his hand and shifted in his seat.

More agony followed as she reached forward and laid her hand on his forearm. “Are you all right, Tom? You know, I’m here if you need to talk.”

He smiled grimly and tried not to read anything into her touch; she was merely being his comradely superior officer. It was part of her job to ensure that all her underlings were in tiptop working condition. His competency at the helm could mean the difference between surviving an attack and complete destruction. It wasn’t something a captain would want to risk, especially if she thought her star pilot was drunk and/or suicidal. He appreciated her attention to detail but what he really wanted to do was throw her across the table and screw her senseless; somehow he didn’t think her comradely support would venture that far.

Common sense prevailed however, and instead of grabbing the bodice of her dress and rending it in two so he could slather her breasts with kisses and bites, he sat back a little, nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Captain, but I’m fine. I just need a day or two.”

She smiled kindly and he silently congratulated himself on deflecting her suspicions, but she proved, yet again, that she was no fool; with an amused quirk of her eyebrow, she gave him a telling look.

“Nice try, Mr. Paris but you look terrible and if you’re going to drink all of that, I’d like you to see the Doctor before turning up for your next duty shift.”

Before he could rein in his reaction, he snapped a salute and a harsh, “Aye, aye, _Captain.”_

He regretted his outburst almost immediately. The hurt look on her face was enough to make him back pedal. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that…” He shrugged. “…I don’t quite know what to do with myself.” He felt pathetic and childish but on the other hand, it had fixed his other more immediate problem. His humiliation had made his cock wilt and any thoughts of sex were dashed.

She patted his arm again, but then withdrew it quickly. “I know how you feel Tom but it will get better.”

He was beginning to resent her interference now. Meaningless platitudes weren’t going to help him; they just filled the awkward spaces. “With all due respect, Captain, how the hell do you know how I feel?”

She sat back and crossed her arms, not the least bit intimidated by his belligerent attitude.

“Because, Mr. Paris, I was in exactly your position a few years ago. The man I was engaged to married someone else.” She was quiet for a long moment as her eyes spoke about a more recent loss and as if to confirm his supposition, she quietly added, “I know much more about rejection and loss than you could possibly imagine.”

She took a deep breath and Tom was surprised to see a shimmer of tears in her eyes but before he could say anything she slipped back into command mode and, in a voice that could cut duranium, she chewed his ass. “I’m willing to overlook your insubordination in light of the circumstances. But that’s the last time, Mr. Paris.” She then smiled slightly to soften the harshness of her words. “Got it?”

Meeting her eyes, he kept his look genuinely sincere and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. And again, I apologise.”

She gave him a reassuring smile and made a move to stand.

Tom didn’t want her to go, not now that they’d finally found some common ground. He said the first thing that came into his head. “Can I offer you a drink, Captain? It’s the good stuff.”

He watched as she mulled over the question, presumably weighing up the propriety of drinking liquor with one of her subordinates, but much to his delight, she nodded and took her seat again. Tom gestured to Sandrine for another glass.

The French proprietress wended her way to the table and after placing the shot glass in front of Janeway, winked at Tom. “Bonne chance, mon chère.”

Tom pretended not to understand Sandrine’s meaning and instead gave his Captain a bright-eyed smile as he filled her glass and then his own. After placing the bottle back on the table, he lifted his drink in a toast. “To broken hearts.”

Janeway shook her head. “To surviving a broken heart.”

He conceded with a nod, tossed back his shot and then waited for her to drink. Unable to hide his surprise, he watched her throw back the shot in one go. He’d expected her to take a small sip, screw up her face in distaste and excuse herself, but her expression remained unchanged until she smiled at his reaction and offered an explanation.

“The Janeways have always loved their whisky and, as much as it pains me to say it, I’ve drunk rotgut a lot worse than this in my time. At the Academy, we even had our own still and some of our ‘brews’ were closer to plasma residue than liquor but it’s left me with a tritanium palate.”

He grinned at the thought of Janeway tossing back shots as a cadet and briefly wondered what she’d really been like. When he was kid, his father had talked about her endlessly, almost to the point where he’d come to loathe the mention of her name but he’d known even then that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t live up to his father’s expectations. Now, he wanted to know the real Janeway; not the one whose exceptional abilities his father had lauded all those years ago, but the smartass Janeway who could throw back shots with the best of them.

Tom’s challenge would be to search out the hidden qualities of that younger Kathryn Janeway in the woman who sat opposite him now.

Feisty was the first word that came to mind, and a damned handful as well, he imagined. Not that much had changed over the years. She was still both of those things as far as he could tell and those dichotomies of personality intrigued him. All that beauty, intelligence and unbridled spirit rolled into one package – it was as intoxicating as the liquor they were drinking.

His thoughts must have reflected in his face because suddenly the tone of their exchange altered; Janeway pushed her glass away and stood up. “I’d better get back to work. Thank you for the drink, Lieutenant, and I’ll see you on the Bridge.”

Tom only made it halfway out of his chair before she’d turned and, with a wave to Sandrine, vanished through the doors.

Slumping back into his seat with a thud, he cursed. “Shit!”

She’d known what he’d been thinking and it had obviously appalled her to the point where her only option was to flee.

_Good one, Tom._

He downed another shot but his heart wasn’t in it anymore, so he grabbed the bottle and began weaving his way through the tables to the exit. He had an awful feeling that his dreams tonight were going to be one long Janeway fantasy. Then again, perhaps he’d have better luck getting hammered in the privacy of his own room and he’d simply sink into drunken oblivion. It was worth a try.

He stepped into the corridor only to be confronted by a sight that he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams. Seven and Chakotay were entering holodeck two – together. The first officer’s arm was draped possessively around the drone’s waist, his fingers splayed across her ribcage under her ample breast; her arm was wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder.

So, _that_ was what had happened to the captain’s relationship with Chakotay. The old man had also moved on to greener pastures – in his case, _very_ green. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen.

Tom wasn’t oblivious to Seven’s charms – both of them. Huffing cynically, he doubted that there was a man – or woman for that matter – who wasn’t aware of them, thanks to her skin-tight bodysuits that left nothing to the imagination. Not that Tom had anything against eye-candy – far from it – but the fact remained that there was a gaping imbalance in such a relationship, the most glaringly obvious one being the age difference. Chakotay was old enough to be her father, which wouldn’t be a problem if the issue were merely the difference in chronological age but their ideals, their experiences, their spirituality – or rather her total lack of it – were poles apart.

Seven was not without her good points – she was handy in a crisis – but there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in that Borg body and although opposites might attract, this was just ridiculous. Tom didn’t give them a hope in hell of going the distance and if this was some sort of pathetic mid-life crisis aberration on Chakotay’s part, then he deserved the nightmare that was destined to ensue. The man was a fool to throw away what he’d had with Janeway to merely cop a feel of those babies. Tom’s respect for the man diminished tenfold and knew that the majority of the crew would feel the same way. This didn’t bode well.

He just hoped that the old man came to his senses before any damage was done. And, with an irreverent snort, Tom tucked this latest piece of information away and headed home.

* * *

Kathryn arrived back at her quarters and absentmindedly keyed in her door code. Her thoughts had been preoccupied all the way back from Sandrine’s. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened down there, but in the time it took for her to knock back a shot of whisky, the dynamic of her relationship with her pilot had somehow shifted. She’d seen it in his eyes and could feel it in the heat of her skin and the throb in her lower belly.

Damn!

Tom Paris! It was ludicrous. Was she so desperate for attention that she would even consider this?

He was her conn officer, a member of her senior staff and although his rank precluded a close friendship, he _was_ someone with whom she’d always felt a certain rapport. Chakotay had once referred to him as her ‘personal reclamation project’ and she’d resented the implication of favouritism at the time but maybe he was right. Long before she’d spoken to Admiral Patterson about offering Tom a position as a civilian observer on Voyager’s maiden mission, she’d sensed a connection to him.

Perhaps it was because he was Owen’s son and she felt in a way responsible for his troubles as a young man. Not that she’d had anything to do with them directly, but after she’d lost her father, Owen had taken her under his wing – probably to the detriment of his relationship with his own son.

Tom had never been able to compete with her accomplishments. And although she was close to ten years his senior, Kathryn was aware that during his adolescence, his father consistently held her up as a paragon of Starfleet virtue and work ethics. How could the kid compete with that? It was a wonder Tom didn’t hate her. The fact that he’d been able to see past his father’s partiality and work with her for the last almost seven years was a testament to his inherent goodness. And he _was_ a good man.

He was also troublesome, annoying at times, but invariably the life of the party. Voyager would be a very different place without him, certainly not as much fun; the thought of some of his past antics made her smile.

In many ways, he’d made living on Voyager tolerable. Almost from the first day, he’d taken it upon himself to find new and often outlandish ways to keep the crew occupied and amused. Although Neelix wore the moniker of morale officer, it was, in reality, Tom Paris who truly owned that handle.

He’d taken Harry under his wing from the very first day, befriended Kes and Neelix, and when the newly liberated Seven had told Kathryn that Tom had offered to help her adjust to life on Voyager, she’d been so proud of him. Because of his past, he shared with these ‘outsiders’ an innate understanding of being the outcast.

However, underneath all the bluff and bravado, he was also a courageous man who had laid his life on the line for his ship and crewmates many times, winning over even his most antagonistic opponents – Chakotay being one of them. The relationship between her First Officer and pilot had mellowed over the years and, although they were hardly bosom buddies, they seemed to have developed a grudging respect for one another.

As hard as he tried to hide it, Tom was one of the best and bravest men she knew.

Kathryn frowned. B’Elanna was a fool.

Kathryn wandered into her bedroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Lines and wrinkles that hadn’t been apparent seven years ago were becoming more and more noticeable. The stress and worry of captaining a lost ship through unknown space were taking their toll and time was marching on at an unrelenting pace. It seemed she’d merely blinked and was now in her mid-forties.

Where had the time gone and what did the future hold for her? For many years, she’d imagined eventually making a life out here with Chakotay, but that dream had slowly faded. Too many years of constant strain and ponderous decision-making had taken all the joy out of their relationship. After a recent incident with a spatial rift, he’d become more distant than ever. These days, during off duty periods, they barely spoke a word to one another and sadly, neither of them seemed too distraught over the loss. Her foray into Sandrine’s this evening had been an attempt to make contact with some of the crew to help fill the lonely hours that she and Chakotay used to share.

The man in question was also busy tonight – with Seven. She’d seen them earlier in the evening, walking side by side down the corridors of deck six, trying, unsuccessfully, to appear businesslike and not as though they couldn’t wait to get their hands on one another. That had once been her place by his side, but not any more. Although Chakotay wasn’t aware that she knew, _and_ she planned to keep it that way, her knowledge of that particular liaison had put a grievous dent in their friendship.

The reminder of Chakotay’s betrayal had made her even more determined to get on with her life and forge new friendships; however, she hadn’t expected to see Tom Paris in the French tavern, but it stood to reason. He was nursing a broken heart and what better place to go than his old haunt.

Her thoughts drifted back to their encounter. She’d been willing to ignore his presence until Sandrine had very helpfully pointed out the fact that he was staring at her. Kathryn pretended not to notice, but small frissons of delight had trickled down her spine at the thought of him watching her from the shadows. It had been years since anyone had looked at her in that way and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t thrill her a little. What woman wouldn’t want a younger man to find her attractive? Kathryn wasn’t as cold and detached as she appeared and longed for the touch of another being – warm loving hands, moist lips, hot breath dancing over her skin…

Kathryn shook her head to short circuit her errant imaginings. These thoughts were dangerous but as she ignored the warning bells, she closed her eyes and tried to envision what sort of a lover Tom would be. Would he be gentle or would his time with B’Elanna have spurred him to be more aggressive? The idea enthralled her and as hard as she tried, the dull throb in her belly became more demanding.

Kathryn pulled her dress over her head and slipped out of her underwear. A blush of arousal coloured the skin above her breasts and her nipples instantly hardened on exposure to the cool air of her quarters.

Glancing over her shoulder towards the bed, she sighed as she turned back to the dresser and opened the drawer. She hunted amongst her underwear until she found her all-too familiar dildo. It had been her constant companion early in the journey but not so much these days. The cold comfort of self-fulfilment had waned very quickly.

But there was a time and a place for such things, and tossing back the covers, she lay down on her bed.

It had been months since she’d pleasured herself, but for the first time in many years, the object of her fantasy would not be that of her first officer. His foolhardy defection had deadened the desire that had been the fuel for her erotic thoughts since arriving in the Delta Quadrant. It saddened her for a moment but she shrugged off her melancholy and instead tried to envisage a tousle of blond hair, blue eyes and pale slender hands playing in and over her body.

Her fingers traced around her puckered nipples and then slid down over the slight round of her belly and through her curls to slip through the slick wetness of her folds. She teased her clitoris with insistent strokes, jolting and gasping as she pinched and circled the sensitive nub, her arousal quickly building. Running the tip of her dildo between her wet folds, she eased it inside her, gritting her teeth as she pushed past the tightness of long unused muscles.

Kathryn savoured the feeling of fullness and the tingling stretch of flesh. After closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Tom above her but her thoughts were disjointed. The images flicked from blue eyes to brown and from fair hair to dark. Concentrating on the sensations rather than her fantasy lover, Kathryn increased her pace. Suddenly piercing blue eyes and a winning smile filled her mind and within moments, she arched off the bed, the panting gasps of her climax filling the quiet of her quarters.

As the tremors eased, Kathryn rolled to the side and looked out the viewport above her bed, before burying her head in her pillow to muffle a frustrated scream. What the hell was she doing? This had to stop this instant. It was insanity to fantasise about Tom Paris, let alone contemplate having sex with the man. There was no way in all the worlds of the Delta Quadrant that she could do it. After keeping Chakotay at bay for all these years, she could hardly turn around and sleep with Paris. Why the thought had even entered her head in the first place was beyond her. It was plain crazy.

She climbed off the bed and trudged towards the bathroom, tossing her dildo in the recycler as she passed. Removing the temptation for a repeat performance would be part of her new therapy and a cold shower would suffice as a wake up call. Afterwards she would go back to work and return to her lonely lover-less existence.

Without looking at herself again, she stepped into the shower cubicle and with a gasp let the cold water douse the flames of her reckless thoughts.

### Chapter Two

The following morning Tom sat at the helm nursing the remnants of his hangover. Apart from the echo of a sore head, everything was tiresomely normal. The Captain and Chakotay sat side by side in their command chairs. Seven was at her Astrometrics station behind them, Tuvok at Tactical, Harry at Ops and Sam Wildman at Sciences.

He was more than a little ashamed of his thoughts from the previous evening. They’d been puerile and crass, and Janeway was undeserving of them. She was someone whom he’d always respected and today, without the disinhibiting affects of alcohol, his fantasies were much easier to tame. His attraction to her wasn’t dampened but his ability to control his errant thoughts were – thank the stars.

It was business as usual and they were attempting to track some random subspace signals that might prove to be evidence of a warp capable society. One they hoped would be willing to trade for supplies.

As if on cue, Tuvok’s console beeped. “Sensors have picked up a vessel on an intercept course.”

Tom checked his console and noted the trajectory of the telltale blip. He heard Janeway shift in her chair as she turned to Tuvok. “Time to intercept?”

“Eleven minutes and fifteen seconds.”

“Weapons?”

“The vessel is equipped with rudimentary armaments but they are no match for Voyager; their shields are activated however.”

“We’ll follow suit. Raise shields but keep weapons off line until we know what our new friends want.”

The level of tension rose noticeably but the crew was so well trained that everyone kept their eyes on their stations and waited patiently for the outcome of this new first contact. The alien ship came into range.

Harry’s console beeped. “Captain, we’re being hailed.”

“Open a channel.”

“On screen.”

The viewscreen came to life and a portly, middle-aged being with a beard, flowing grey hair and prominent brow ridges appeared. He looked a little like Santa Claus – the alien sort – and Tom had to bite his tongue.

Janeway stood, taking her usual place in the centre of the command deck. “I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration en route to our home planet. We mean you no harm.”

The alien smiled warmly and raised his hand in greeting. “Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager, welcome to Darnath space. I am Vixor Strout, of the Darnathian science vessel Agara. We are fellow explorers and very pleased to make your acquaintance. Have you travelled far?”

Tom turned around and Janeway met his gaze briefly, her eyes twinkling with amusement before she looked again at the alien and answered. “Quite some way Vixor Strout. Thank you for your welcome.”

“Our home planet is only a short distance from here and if you and your crew are willing, we gladly offer accommodation and recreation. We are always interested in meeting beings from other worlds and sharing our stories.”

“We would be delighted, Vixor Strout, and if your government is agreeable, we would also like to negotiate for supplies. Our journey is a long one and any opportunity to replenish our stores is greatly appreciated.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, Captain. I have sent you the co-ordinates for Darnath but it would please me immensely if you would allow us to escort you.”

With a wave of her hand and a beaming smile, Janeway addressed the alien, “Lead the way, Vixor Strout.”

The viewscreen reverted to its usual dark blanket of stars with the Darnathian vessel several parsecs ahead.

Janeway stepped down to Tom’s level and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Follow the Darnath ship at a safe distance, Tom.”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze but her hand seemed to linger. Tom wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking on his behalf or his newly acquired hyperawareness of her, but when she lifted her hand away to return to her command chair, he could have sworn that her fingers swept in an arc down his shoulder and back.

He sat frozen in his chair; he didn’t dare move or look at anyone. What the hell had that been about? Did she just caress him or had he merely imagined it? It wasn’t the first time she’d given his shoulder an encouraging clasp but never had she let her hand glide across his back like that. It had left a scorching trail in its wake; his skin tingled and his hands were trembling.

“Tom?”

“Huh?”

He spun around and met Janeway’s eyes.

She averted his gaze almost immediately and nodded towards the viewscreen. “We’re going to be left behind.”

“Uh. Sorry, Captain.” He spun back to his console and set course for Darnath behind the Agara, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

* * *

Kathryn gripped the arms of her command chair. She hadn’t meant to do that to Tom. The poor man must be wondering what the hell was going on but it had been an unintentional slip of the hand – so to speak.

How many times had she gripped his shoulder when she’d stepped down to the helm? Countless times. It was a well-established habit but today it had been different. She’d felt the play of muscle under his uniform, the flex of his shoulder as he reacted to her touch and without realising what she was doing, her fingers had drifted down his back as she’d turned.

Her behaviour had shocked him – and her – leaving him dumbfounded and in a state of stunned disbelief. She could hardly blame him and from now on, she would have to be vigilant and avoid any more such incidents.

She glanced at Chakotay and he gave her an absentminded smile. It appeared he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, which was a relief, but even so, she couldn’t let it happen again.

Taking a deep breath, Kathryn sat back in her seat and willed herself to relax.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they dropped into orbit around the lush planet of Darnath.

A further communication from Vixor Strout invited a delegation from Voyager to visit the capital where they could negotiate for supplies, scan for minerals and scout shore leave locations for the crew.

Kathryn turned to Chakotay. “Put together a small away team, Commander, with an appropriate representative from either Engineering or Geophysics. I’ll lead the team.”

Harry spoke from Ops. “Captain, there is upper atmospheric ion displacement. It appears to be a natural phenomenon but it will interfere with transporters and sensors. It also means that we can’t get clear sensor readings of the planet surface.”

Kathryn frowned; this was just typical. She pointed to the screen. “We can see the planet. Can you get any readings at all?”

“Not anything useful. Nothing on their population or their technology – only what we can see from orbit. Landmasses, oceans etcetera.”

“Set our orbit as close as possible to the outer atmosphere and we’ll use the Delta Flyer. Make the necessary arrangements and contact the Darnathian representatives informing them of our plans. We’ll scan the planet once we’re through the interference. If anything looks suspicious, we’ll head straight back to Voyager and send our regrets. So minimal complement, Commander – myself, a pilot and someone from Geophysics.”

Chakotay nodded and turned to his console to check the away team rotation. “Tom, you’ll pilot the Flyer and…” He turned to Kathryn. “Ensign McMinn will meet you in the shuttle bay in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Commander. The Bridge is yours.”

With that, Kathryn stood and made her way to the turbo lift but heard Chakotay address Tom. “Paris you’d better get going too. And during the pre-flight, check the plasma intake valve on the port nacelle – it was showing some signs of wear last trip out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kathryn held the turbo lift for Tom and gave him a nod as he stepped through the doors. “Deck three and…”

“Nine.” He shrugged and gave her a grim smile. “I got custody of the quarters.”

Kathryn wasn’t quite sure what to make of that but shrugged and quipped. “They’re bigger, I suppose.”

“True. I consider it a win.” The lift had reached deck three and just as Kathryn was stepping past him, he added. “Besides, they’ve got a killer view.”

Kathryn couldn’t help smiling at his gallows humour – the only view from anyone’s quarters was of open space.

His smile was genuine and he seemed to be behaving as his usual self. Kathryn was relieved that her slip up on the Bridge hadn’t caused any lasting awkwardness. If anything, their conversation seemed to be flowing more smoothly than usual.

To prove that all was normal, she patted him on the forearm as she left the lift. “Chin up, Mr. Paris. I’ll see you in the shuttle bay.”

He lifted his head a little and grinned. “Every cloud, as they say. See you there, Captain.”

The doors snapped shut between them and Kathryn strode towards her quarters. She was enjoying the parry and thrust of their banter of their new rapport. It was invigorating. After stepping into her quarters, she smiled again as she looked out the viewport. The black blanket of space wasn’t much to look at but that unstartling view was another thing they shared and the thought buoyed her spirits. Today would be a good day.

### Chapter Three

The day was a disaster.

Tom slammed his hand on the unresponsive console and hissed, “Shit!” Then looked over his shoulder and apologised. “Sorry, Captain.”

She glanced at him but didn’t comment. Tom had a feeling that he was merely voicing her sentiments. What a fucking nightmare. Crashed shuttles were usually Chakotay’s domain but he seemed to have contracted the curse.

They’d left Voyager on time. Tara McMinn from Geophysics had turned up early to check the scanning equipment and stow her gear; the Captain arrived with Chakotay still giving him last minute instructions about crew rotations for shore leave. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary and they’d powered up and left the shuttle bay without a backward glance.

Tom had checked the port nacelle’s plasma intake valve as Chakotay had asked and found a small discrepancy, but it was nothing that he couldn’t compensate for during the short flight to the surface. The Flyer’s scanners had picked up the slight ion displacement in the atmosphere but there was nothing on sensors to indicate the violence of the atmospheric eddies they encountered as soon as they’d entered the upper thermosphere.

The Delta Flyer was tossed around like a cork in an ocean; the ion distortions interfered with most of their technology, rendering it useless. Tom managed to hold the vessel together, but only just; with no thrusters or navigation, they’d hit the planet surface hard. By rights, none of them should have survived, but apart from some bruises and small cuts, he and Janeway seemed fine.

Unfortunately, the other member of their away team hadn’t been so lucky. Tara McMinn had been in the aft section and hadn’t stood a chance. She’d died on impact.

The Flyer was in pieces around them; the main computer had virtually disintegrated, the communication system was damaged beyond repair; sensors were shot and without the computer, their combadges were useless. He’d already activated the emergency beacon but they had no idea if the signal could penetrate the ion field shrouding the planet.

Until they got their bearings, there was no way to know where they were in relation to their destination. Tom had been too busy trying to stop the Flyer from breaking up in the atmosphere to check their trajectory and with the computer no more than scrap metal, they were, without putting too fine a point on it, in deep shit.

They had no idea of the Darnath’s level of technology and there was the niggling suspicion in the back of his mind that this may not have been an accident. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been manipulated by an alien species hungry for new technology or weaponry. But for now there was no way of knowing.

The fact remained, however, that if Voyager couldn’t use sensors and the locals had no equivalent system to track them, he and Janeway could be in for a long wait for rescue.

They did have functioning tricorders but their range was severely limited; from initial scans, there was dense jungle for miles in every direction, apart from the clearing left by the Flyer’s rough landing. There was also a menagerie’s worth of lifeforms out there but nothing two legged or appearing sentient. Tom had an awful feeling that several of the larger creatures just might classify him and Janeway inside their shuttle as dinner in a can.

Tossing a shattered power coupling onto the pile of other damaged parts, Tom huffed wearily. There was no point trying to fix the comm. system, there was literally nothing left to fix. Janeway was busy trying to cobble together the onboard computer in an effort to get long-range scanners working and after carefully stepping over her legs, he made his way to the storage compartment behind the navigation station.

Setting up a perimeter was now the priority. If nothing else, at least they could remain safe within the wreckage. Once they’d gotten their ‘sea legs’ and knew what they were dealing with, they could venture further afield. But night was falling fast and basic survival was the first thing on the agenda. He hefted the four perimeter beacons and a phaser from the arms locker before making his way to the gaping hole in the side of the Flyer.

“I’ll just set these up.”

Janeway turned from her task and gave him a nod. “Good thinking.”

He returned the nod and left the shuttle.

Neither of them felt much like talking; the barest minimum of words was enough. He felt responsible for what had happened but knew, as always, Janeway would assume the heavy mantle of guilt.

In reality, neither of them was to blame. The Delta quadrant was unrelenting in its ability to throw obstacles in their path but knowing that didn’t change the way they felt.

Tom checked out the immediate vicinity and decided that once he had the perimeter in place, he’d see to dealing with McMinn’s body. The stasis unit had been damaged in the crash but he thought he might be able to jury-rig something from the remnants of it and other half-functioning consoles. He knew the Captain wouldn’t want to bury the Ensign on this unknown planet, but if they were going to be here for more than a day or so, it might be the only option. They were in a survival situation and practicalities had to come first. His priority was to keep both of them alive and safe and if any of the larger animals were scavengers, the smell of death would bring them in droves and he couldn’t risk that happening.

While he’d been thinking these grisly thoughts, he’d placed each of the four markers equidistance apart around the shuttle and, after carefully calibrating each one, activated them. The forcefield shimmered into place and he heaved a silent sigh of relief. They were safe for the moment. The internal power cells were good for at least a week, although he refused to contemplate the thought that they might still be stranded there seven days from now.

He looked out into the now dark jungle, pulled his tricorder from his belt, and quickly scanned the area around the shuttle. There were several bright blips indicating nocturnal animals foraging but nothing was too close. Even so, it would be a tense night. Turning back to the Flyer, he ducked through the ruptured bulkhead to find the Captain sitting back against the shattered console with her eyes closed.

She looked up as he entered, her brow creased and her eyes dull with worry. It struck him for a moment that she looked pale, but it had been a difficult couple of hours and when she gave him a small smile and turned back to the computer console, he held off from enquiring.

He gave her a brief report. “The forcefield is in place and functioning. I took a scan of our surroundings and there’s nothing much out there… for now.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do to repair the Flyer though. The port nacelle was torn off on impact and is further back along our crash trail; I’ll try to retrieve it in the morning. If we gather all the bits, maybe the engineers will go easy on us.”

Janeway nodded and gave him a grim smile. “Good work, Tom.”

“We should have something to eat and drink. Shall I break out the ration packs?”

“Sounds good.”

He handed her a sachet of water and took one for himself. They both drank thirstily before Tom delved into the emergency pack again.

“I think I’ll have the foie gras, followed by the Beef Bourguignon.” He waved two protein bars in her direction.

Janeway made a face and Tom smiled, but as she was turning away from him, he noticed a trickle of blood coming from her ear and the mottled blue-purple of a deepening bruise hidden along her hairline. Damn her. He’d taken her on her word that she was uninjured, but the woman was stoic to a fault. It was an admirable trait, but in this situation, it could cause a good deal more harm than good.

Discarding the rations, he grabbed the medical scanner and aimed it at her head. She glared at him, but he ignored her as he stared at the readings before giving her a worried look. “Captain, why didn’t you tell me that you’d hit your head? There’s a subdural haematoma forming under that bruise. You need to lie down, right now.”

“I’m fine, Tom. It wasn’t a hard knock.”

Anger and worry tore through him and he bit back harshly. “It was hard enough and if I don’t stop the bleeding you’ll finish up with brain damage or die.”

Fear of losing her had short-circuited his bedside manner and he was angry with himself for not taking the time to scan her as soon as they’d dragged themselves from the wreckage. It was his duty as a medic and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

Before she could argue further, he put his right arm under her shoulders, slipped his left arm under her knees, and lifted her carefully over to the pilot’s chair. He frowned down at her. “Don’t move.”

She remained still and that worried him even more.

He retrieved the medical kit and rummaged through it looking for the deep tissue regenerator. For one horrifying moment he thought that it might not be there, but upon finding it at last, he turned towards her. She didn’t look well; her skin had a sallow and clammy look, which concerned him. “You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you?”

She gave her head a gentle shake. “Not that I’ve noticed, but now that you mention it, it would probably be wise to scan each other for injuries.”

“Good thinking, Captain.” His voice was laced with gentle sarcasm and he watched her mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “But first we have to stop the bleeding. Please be as still as you can.” He knelt beside her and cradled her head in his left hand as he ran the regenerator over the damaged area under her temple, explaining as he performed the procedure. “The knock has damaged the small bridging blood vessels between two of the membranes that cover your brain and you’ve bled into the space between them. If we don’t stop the bleeding the pressure would keep building, and because there’s only a finite amount of space inside your skull, it would eventually cause damage to your brain.”

He felt rather than saw her smile. “You’ve been spending too much time with the Doctor; you sound uncannily like him.”

He smiled at her attempt to lighten the moment and countered. “Hey, if you’re going to insult me… just remember I’m the one holding the regenerator.”

Her smile broadened but then he felt the cooling trail of a tear as it trickled over the back of his fingers. He knew that she wouldn’t want him to know that she was crying, but if she was in pain, he had to know. “Are you all right, Captain? You’re not in pain, are you?”

“No, Tom. I’m fine.”

He put down the regenerator and scanned her head once more. “Okay, I’ve stopped the bleeding but the blood clot is still there. The Doc will be able to fix that in no time but until then, you’ll have to be careful. Nothing strenuous for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“It doesn’t look like we’ll be going anywhere.”

“No, but I’ve seen you in action too many times and I know you make a habit of ignoring the Doctor’s advice. Please, Captain, don’t do anything to endanger your life. I’m the one who will have to answer to Chakotay if I don’t bring you home in one piece.”

She shrugged and added wryly, turning towards the console. “I doubt he’d notice one way or the other, but I’ll bear it in mind. Don’t worry, I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I know it, Captain but still, _I_ would notice.” He watched as she looked towards him, her eyes softening.

“Thank you, Tom. I’ll try my best to follow orders.”

She quirked her eyebrow and Tom chuckled before mumbling under his breath. “Definitely a handful.”

“What was that?”

He shrugged and smiled broadly. “Nothing.” He then quickly replaced the regenerator and picked up the medical scanner. “Okay, hold still while I check the rest of you.”

* * *

Kathryn remained motionless but studied Tom’s face while he went about his task. Concentration furrowed his brow and for the first time, she noticed the fine lines around his eyes, his slightly receding hairline and the few streaks of grey in the blond of his hair. It had been a long seven years and for everyone on board, the constant stress was starting to show. She’d long ago accepted the fact that it wasn’t entirely her fault that they were in the Delta Quadrant – too many arguments with Chakotay had cured her of that misconception. But the odd pangs of guilt still haunted her and as she remembered the fresh faced young man who had joined her crew all those years ago, she was struck by one now.

None of them was young anymore. They had, all of them, lived a lifetime and a half since they’d landed out here in the Delta Quadrant.

She sighed and his head shot up to stare at her. “Captain?”

She shook her head and gave him a grim smile. “It’s nothing. How’s the scan?”

He frowned momentarily before giving her an encouraging smile. “Just an impressive array of bumps and bruises but nothing that won’t heal on its own in a few days. I can run the regenerator over them now if you like but it’s probably wise to keep it in reserve… just in case.”

Kathryn nodded. “I’ll be fine. What are a few bruises between friends?” She then held her hand out for the scanner. “Your turn.”

“Oh, I’m okay.”

“That sounds eerily familiar.” She quirked a brow at his broad grin. “But if I have to endure it, so do you – I’m still the captain around here. Hand it over, Mr. Paris.”

He gave her a jaunty salute, “Aye, aye, Captain.” It was almost a carbon copy of the salute he’d given her the previous evening but this was a vastly different Tom Paris to the morose and moody man she’d seen in Sandrine’s.

As she took the scanner from him, she avoided his eyes but commented. “It’s good to see you back to your old self, Lieutenant.”

“There’s nothing like a life or death situation to put things in perspective.”

Kathryn glanced up at him and this time their eyes held. She nodded slowly, her voice pensive. “Without a doubt, Tom, without a doubt.”

Their gazes remained locked for several seconds before she dropped her eyes to the scanner readings. After taking a deep breath, she turned it towards him. “Nothing more than some matching scratches and bruises. You’ll live to pilot another day.”

“I’m pleased to hear it; I was wondering if you’d ever let me out again after what happened this time.”

“Neither of us would be here if it wasn’t for your piloting skills.” With that, they both looked towards the aft section and Kathryn felt the all too familiar press of sadness in the middle of her chest. She didn’t need to explain. Tom Paris was amazingly intuitive – it was part of his charm.

“I’ll see if I can get the stasis unit working. Are you okay?” He gestured towards her head. “No headaches, dizziness, nausea?”

“No, I’m fine.” She gave him a lopsided smile, truly appreciating his concern. “I’ll keep working on the computer out here, yell if you need help.”

“I’d prefer if you just rested, Captain.”

Kathryn looked at him, her brow rising and her mouth twitching in a half smile as he continued.

“But I know it’s a waste of time to ask, so please just take it easy and if you feel ill in any way; anything at all, call me straight away.”

This time she snapped a salute. “Aye, aye, Lieutenant.”

He smiled but Kathryn could see the seriousness behind the grin as he quipped. “That’s Lieutenant ‘Closest Thing You Have To A Doctor, So Behave’.”

Kathryn shooed him with a flick of her hand. “I’ll be fine.” She felt perfectly all right.

He gave her a measured look. She then watched with amusement as he picked up a piece of charred console that was blocking his path and searched for a place to put it. Eventually shrugging his shoulders, he tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of unrecognisable pieces of broken shuttle. “This is worse than my Academy dorm room after Ponn Far night.”

She chuckled and her eyes continued to follow him as he made his way aft and through to the rear bay.

Settling herself in front of what used to be the main computer console, Kathryn decided she would work on this for another half an hour, then go and see how Tom was faring with the stasis unit.

### Chapter Four

Tom entered the rear bay and heaved a weary sigh. Covered in a blanket, Tara McMinn’s body lay over by the collapsed bulkhead where she’d died. Even after all this time and all the deaths he’d witnessed, he still found the losses difficult to accept. Despite attending dozens of funerals on Voyager, Tom knew that each one had been a blow to the crew’s collective soul and he didn’t want to think about how Freddy Bristow was going to cope with Tara’s death.

Freddy and Tara had been together almost as long as he and B’Elanna. It certainly put his break up into perspective. B’E might have moved on but at least she was still alive – there were worse things.

The silence was oppressive and to fill the yawning quiet he began to speak softly to Tara as he disassembled the stasis unit and sifted through the parts for viable components.

“I’ll make sure Feddy’s okay, Tara. I promise. And we’ll give you a wake no one will ever forget. Sullivans will shake at the rafters. Seamus and the band will give you a rollicking send off. I can see it now. Maggie will sing that song that you loved so much. What was it?” He stilled and thought for a moment. “Dark Iniseoghain, wasn’t it? I’ll make sure it’s the right one and it will be amazing. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.” He smiled to himself then glanced over at the blanket lying as still as stone; his smile faded as he whispered. “It’ll be perfect, Tara. Just perfect.”

While he’d been talking, he’d managed to cobble together the necessary components to create a stasis field. “Well, McMinn, that was easier than I thought it would be. Now I just need a power cell and we’re set.”

“We won’t be needing this one.” He yanked the front off the shattered replicator console and snapped the power cell from its housing. “Okay, we attach this to the…” He turned to Tara. “What was it you used to call parts and components that we couldn’t remember the names of? The, um… the _‘interocitor’_!”

Tom chuckled to himself remembering the night he’d shown the ancient science fiction movie, _This Island Earth_ in his holographic movie house. Old ‘sci-fi’ films had always been favourites amongst the crew and in the weeks following this particular movie, it had become a standing joke that every odd looking piece of equipment was referred to as an ‘interocitor’. He missed those days.

But there was no point bemoaning them now and it seemed rather petty under the circumstances. Sitting back, he pulled out a tricorder, scanned the hodge-podge of components in front of him and after snapping it shut, grinned. “Okay, Tara. My trusty tricorder says that it’s going to work. Let’s hope it does. Wish me luck.”

He stood up and moved over to her body. “I’m going to have to carry you over to the gurney.” For a millisecond, he wondered why on Earth he was explaining what he was doing to a dead body, but to him she was still Tara; and if it had been him lying under that blanket, he’d want someone to talk to him and treat him kindly. It was the least he could do.

“Okay, here we go.”

He hoisted her into his arms before carefully laying her on the makeshift biobed. As he’d moved her, the blanket had fallen away from her face and it surprised him to see her looking so peaceful – as though she could wake up any moment. He knew that it was an impossibility and after tucking her hair behind her ear, he blinked back the burning sting of tears. Goddamn it, he was so sick of death.

As much as his heart ached, he didn’t have time to grieve now, so taking a deep breath, he gently placed the blanket over her face again and switched on the stasis field. It fluctuated for a moment but he tweaked the phase capacitor until it stabilised.

“There we are, Tara. We did it. Now we can take you home to Freddy and he can say a proper goodbye.”

There was a noise behind him and he turned. The doorway was empty, but Tom had a sneaking suspicion that the captain had been there and had overheard his conversation with Tara. He wasn’t sure if he should try to explain to her what he’d been doing. She probably thought he was being glib but he didn’t mean it to be. Unsure of what to do, he decided not to say anything; it was just too difficult to explain. Besides there were more pressing needs to deal with at present.

Having another try at fixing the communication console was one _and_ that they should probably have something to eat was another.

He checked the stasis field one more time and stared down at Tara’s body for a long moment. “Safe journey, Tara.”

Tears stung his eyes again but he took a deep breath and blinked them back before he turned and left the bay.

* * *

Kathryn swiped angrily at her eyes but the stubborn tears refused to abate. Damn Tom Paris!

She’d been wrestling with a coupling in the computer core that refused to move and needed his help to prize it from its mounting but rather than calling out to him, she’d headed towards the rear of the craft. Hearing his voice, she’d thought for a moment that he’d managed to get a comm. unit working and smiled, poking her head around the door of the aft compartment. What she ended up hearing left her stunned and heartsore.

Tom was talking to Tara McMinn, chatting to her as though she were still alive with kind words – gentle words – of comfort and reassurance.

Her heart swelled with affection for the man, but at the same time, the guilt of yet another life lost slammed into Kathryn harder than the shuttle crash. It was another death on her conscience, another young life cut short before its time and the blame rested squarely on her shoulders. No matter what Chakotay might say, as captain, she – and she alone – was responsible for the welfare of her crew. Her head began to pound with anguish.

Tom was right. Freddy Bristow would be devastated by Tara’s death and she would have to endure the interviews and weeks of counselling sessions with the young Lieutenant. As captain, she would wear the mantle of stoic but compassionate leader, mouthing platitudes and banal words of condolence, all the time dying a little inside. No one knew, and she would never divulge the fact to anyone, but after each death it took her weeks before she could sleep without the ghosts of the lost haunting her dreams and eat without the bitter tang of guilt souring everything that passed her lips.

The throbbing behind her eyes worsened and she dashed the tears from her cheeks. Perhaps if she spent a moment with Tara too, to explain and apologise for what had happened, it might ease her heartache, but the idea seemed contrived and calculated and she felt foolish for even considering it.

Starfleet protocols and procedures were too deeply engrained for her to break away from them now. As the captain of a starship, it was an accepted part of the job to deal with deaths in the line of duty of those under one’s command and she’d long ago inured herself to that reality. But deep down, in Kathryn Janeway’s soft underbelly, there was a large part of her that anguished at the unfairness of it, leaving her floundering in a mire of guilt and remorse.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed away the remnants of her tears. The last thing she wanted was for Tom to see her like this – weak and vulnerable. He’d feel responsible and then there would be more apologies and more guilt. Her life, it seemed, was becoming an ever-deepening pool of regret.

She heard him re-enter the forward compartment and steeled herself for his conciliatory words.

He moved behind her and in a bold but meaningful gesture, placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly. “Tara is in stasis.”

Kathryn nodded, not looking at him. “Thank you, Tom. I appreciate that, and I’m sure Tara would, too.”

His hand gripped her shoulder firmly for a heartbeat and then lifted away from her. The area where it had rested felt cold and slowly the chill began to permeate her entire body.

Kathryn started to shiver.

The pain in her head exploded and her vision wavered; the world around her began to dim. She managed a guttural, “Tom! T…” before everything sucked into a central vortex of black.

* * *

Tom heard her call his name and turned. He thought for a moment that he was in trouble for overstepping the bounds of his rank by touching her shoulder but the instant he saw her, he knew that something was very wrong.

Damn it all! He knew he should have made her rest.

“Captain! Captain!” He scrambled to her side and touched her face. She was cold, clammy and barely breathing. His heart began to race. _“Kathryn!!”_

She was slumped against the bulkhead – pale and unresponsive – and in a wave of panic, his mind went blank. He sat staring at her for precious seconds, unable to think beyond the debilitating wash of dread, but with a jolt, his training took over and he lunged for the med kit, grabbed the tricorder and scanned her.

He knew it. She’d bled again and the growing haemorrhage was pressing on the vulnerable brain tissue, dangerously increasing her intracranial pressure. Goddamn it, where was Voyager when you needed her! He was limited as to what he could do with the equipment on hand but her blood pressure was rising and her pulse dropping, sure signs that if he didn’t do something soon the damage would be irreversible. His priority was to stop the bleeding and then somehow remove the clot before the pressure caused more harm.

He worked frantically – using the regenerator to seal off the vessels before administering a dose of Trianoline and Alkysine. Both would help with the swelling but he still needed to remove the clot. Closing his eyes, Tom took a few deep breaths and imagined himself in sickbay, going through in his mind what the Doctor would do under these circumstances.

Two seconds later, his eyes shot open. An anabolic protoplaser was what he needed. Rifling through the emergency med kit, he found a generic protoplaser but it was for dealing with external wounds and too cumbersome for such delicate work.

Gritting his teeth, Tom looked down at his dying Captain, turned the beam to its finest setting and switched it on. There was nothing else he could do. If he did nothing, she would certainly die or worse still, be severely brain damaged. Willing his fingers to remain steady and using the tricorder in one hand to pinpoint the large haematoma on the surface of Janeway’s brain, he aimed the instrument at the clot.

Tom hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until the ominous dark area on the tricorder’s screen began to shrink. He huffed loudly in relief and then gasped a great lungful of air.

For more than forty minutes, Tom manoeuvred the unwieldy instrument, moving it in tiny increments over the damaged area. It was delicate work and required every ounce of his concentration. His whole world became the woman in front of him, his every thought focussed on an all-important task.

He would not let her die, and with that mantra throbbing through his head, he slowly but surely dissipated the destructive blood clot.

Once it was gone, he used the regenerator again to make certain that even the smallest blood vessels were sealed. Once he was satisfied that he’d gotten them all, he slumped back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes for a heady few seconds. A lone tear slipped from the corner of one and trickled down his cheek.

The muscles of his arms and upper back were screaming in pain; he’d been tensely hunched over his captain for almost an hour repairing her injuries but before he could truly relax, he opened his eyes, picked up the tricorder and checked her vitals once more. She was still unconscious and probably would be for some time. Her blood pressure was still elevated, but not as high as it had been; her pulse was back to normal and her breathing, easier. She was still a worrying shade of grey but her lips were pink and both pupils were equal and reacting. It was too early to congratulate himself just yet, but it looked as though she would pull through – once again.

Tom steadied his breathing and began to pack away the medical equipment. He was quietly methodical in his task but as he replaced each item in its specific compartment, his anger and frustration grew. Snapping the lid shut, he stood, and after one more careful look at Janeway, stepped outside the Flyer. He was hoping that the cool night air would douse the burn of anger that was boiling in his chest, but instead it rose steadily up his throat until he could no longer contain it.

Turning to the shuttle, the brackish tang of anguish erupted and he howled at the top of his lungs, _“Arrrggghhh!”_ before slamming his fists against the side of the vessel over and over until he was leaving bloodied smudges on the grey hull plating.

He stared at the congealing blood for several moments, his chest heaving and his brow dripping with sweat.

Physically and emotionally spent, Tom slumped to his knees and cradled his head between his hands before pivoting forward, his forehead thudding dully against the side of the Flyer.

He’d nearly lost her – the one person who had believed in him from the very beginning of this bizarre adventure, one of the few people he trusted with his life. If she’d died, he knew that he would never recover from the loss. The intensity of his emotions frightened him. It wasn’t right, but a fist closed tightly around his heart with the mere thought of what life would be like without Kathryn Janeway.

Staggering to his feet, Tom stumbled through the hole in the side of the shuttle. He needed to be close to her, to watch her and ensure she was out of danger.

She hadn’t moved, but her colour was improving and she was breathing slowly and steadily. He would check her vitals in a moment, but he just needed a minute to sit quietly by her side and calm his thundering heart. Slumping back against the bulkhead, he stared at his bleeding knuckles, mesmerised by the rawness of the wounds and the slow seep of blood.

He wanted it all to stop – the fear and dread, the moments of terror and the constant stress of fighting for their very survival. After all these years, they deserved a break, just a moment of calm to rest and take stock. He was so tired of lurching from one near-tragedy to the next, of never knowing what was around the next nebula; the only certainty was that there would be another potential disaster, in all likelihood, worse than the last.

Their journey was exhausting and slowly sucking the life out of all of them, but still, he berated himself. His lot was nothing compared to the load carried by the woman in front of him. She had the weight of the entire crew resting on her shoulders – their expectations, their disappointments, their lives and their deaths. It was an onerous burden.

He’d been shocked earlier by the bony frailness of her shoulder when he’d touched her. Janeway was a petite woman, he’d always known that; but her larger than life persona belied the fact that under that uniform there resided an acquired fragility that until now, she’d successfully hidden behind a veil of stoicism and command dynamism. He had a sickening feeling that her strength was beginning to wane and that the journey had literally begun to eat away at her, diminishing her physically as well as emotionally. It pained him to see it. She was strong, resilient and brave, but even she had her limits.

Of course, Kathryn Janeway would never acknowledge or admit to any weakness and it was that courage and tenacity that he loved…

He froze, forgetting for a moment to breathe and then stared down at her.

Was that what these feelings were? Love? Had his post-adolescent crush morphed into something deeper and more profound? Did this ache he felt when he looked at her and his frantic need to protect her signify a true depth of commitment?

He reached towards her tentatively, his fingers brushing gently over her forehead and down her cheek. Her eyelids twitched and he snatched his hand away, but his heart pounded and his belly churned with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The last few days had been filled with revelations. His drunken mental meanderings had set him on a road of discovery, one that had led him to this earth-shattering realisation.

He loved Kathryn Janeway.

It begged the question. Was there any chance that she reciprocated his feelings? The touches and the tension in their exchanges was something new and without being arrogant, Tom had been around enough women to read the signs of attraction. But was it just his imagination? If it was true and they did have feelings for one another, what was the likelihood of it ever becoming something more than the odd wistful glance and the occasional fleeting touch?

He stared down at her and decided that he didn’t care. The elation of this new discovery was a balm unto itself and he made a silent promise to her that from this moment forward he would make certain that she survived this and any other catastrophes that might befall her. With Chakotay out of the picture, she would need someone on whom she could rely, someone who had only her best interests at heart.

He would be that person.

Having made this pledge, Tom felt a stirring of renewed hope and energy. The enervating ennui that had enshrouded him for the last few weeks began to lift and his heart pounded with promise. He loved Kathryn Janeway and his path was now clear. He would try to gently woo her, prove to her that he was the man for her. Heaving a contented sigh, he opened the neatly packed medkit, pulled out the regenerator and mended his skinned knuckles. He then picked up the tricorder and checked his captain’s condition once again. She was improving. Her vitals were stable, her blood pressure normal, and there’d been no further bleeding. It was safe to move her.

Lifting her gently, he placed her in the reclined pilot’s seat again, rolled up his jacket and placed it behind her head before tucking a blanket around her.

Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled reassuringly at her. “You’re going to be all right, Captain.”

She nodded, her eyes growing heavy again.

Tom’s gaze didn’t leave her face but his heart soared when her hand snaked out from under the blanket and sought his. He clasped it gently and watched her smile before she drifted off to sleep again.

### Chapter Five

Kathryn felt as though she was swimming through molasses, fighting her way to the surface through a sea of viscid black. Her arms and legs were weighty and sluggish, and her eyes refused to open. There was an irritating lowing noise that she was surprised to realise came from her; and in the background, someone was calling her name. She wished they’d stop and let her sink back into the beckoning oblivion, but they persisted and she reluctantly drifted closer to the unrelenting urgings of the voice.

“Captain, can you hear me? Captain! Kathryn! Wake up. It’s time to wake up.”

She dearly wanted to argue with them and tell them that she’d wake up when she was good and ready but her mouth refused to work.

“Wake up, Kathryn. If you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand.”

Squeeze his hand. She could do that, and with a small rush of satisfaction, she felt her fingers clench.

The disembodied voice returned. “That’s great; now both of them. Squeeze both of my hands with both of yours, as hard as you can.”

This took more concentration but she gripped the warm palms in hers, squeezing with all her might. The voice was vaguely recognisable and it made her feel safe. Frustratingly, she couldn’t remember to whom it belonged. She frowned.

“Are you in pain, Captain? I’m sorry but can’t give you any pain relief just yet. Can you open your eyes?”

Her mouth was slow to respond but she finally mumbled. “Too hard.”

“I know but I’d really like you to try.”

With every ounce of effort she could muster, Kathryn dragged her eyes open a crack and looked up into the smiling face of Tom Paris.

“Tom.”

The smile on his face broadened. “That’s right, Captain. You recognise me; that’s great.”

“Of course, I do.”

What was wrong with the man? Did he think that she’d forgotten him just because she was having trouble waking up? Small snippets of memories began to surface – a grey-haired alien, shattered consoles, a smiling Ensign McMinn, Tom’s gentle words and hands, sadness and pain. It was all fragmented and mixed up, and it took her a moment to piece together what had happened. They’d crashed on a planet and were waiting for Voyager to rescue them.

Kathryn’s eyes flicked past Tom’s shoulder to the interior of the damaged Flyer. “How long was I out?”

“Several hours.”

“No Voyager?”

Tom shook his head. “No, not yet but I’m sure they’re doing everything that can to find us. They’ll be here soon.”

“My head?”

He nodded. “You had another haemorrhage but you’re going to be fine. I stopped the bleeding and removed the clot. You’ll be sore and a bit groggy for a few days, and on _strict_ bed rest for at least forty-eight hours.”

She knew she should argue with him about that, but her eyelids were getting heavy again and she could feel the irresistible pull of sleep. Tom’s face was still hovering above her and she smiled. He’d saved her life and, more importantly, saved her from a life worse than death. She needed him to know that she knew. “Thank you, Tom. For everything.”

He was holding her hand clasped between both of his. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Captain. I can’t.”

She could see the dazzling sincerity in his eyes and hear the promise in the timbre of his voice. He truly meant what he said and that knowledge filled her with a sense of reassurance that she hadn’t felt in a long time. He was a good, good, man and with his gentle touches and soft voice comforting her, she felt cherished.

Her thoughts were becoming fuzzy, each one tumbling over the other as she sank into oblivion once more. But she smiled and mumbled as darkness enveloped her. “Thank you, Tom.”

* * *

Tom watched as Janeway drifted into unconsciousness again and snatched up the tricorder to scan her once more. He checked the readouts and sighed withrelief. She was merely asleep. It appeared to be a deep healing sleep, which meant he could at last relax and begin to think of a more proactive way of getting them off this planet. He could do with some shut-eye himself but it was the middle of the night and it was his duty to keep watch.

With his head resting against the pilot’s console and within easy reach of his captain, he looked around at the Flyer’s damaged remains and wondered what else he could do. There had to be something he could use. He was surrounded by technology – very little of it functioning – but there had to be parts that could be cobbled together to help Voyager find them.

Conventional technology wasn’t of any use – the ion disturbance interfered with all subspace communications and scanning equipment. An EM pulse was a possible strategy, but putting together enough power cells to create one big enough to be picked up by a vessel in orbit was impossible. Phasers and weaponry were all off line. Short of blowing up the Flyer, Tom couldn’t think of anything that would be of any help. The emergency beacon had obviously fallen prey to the ion distortion – the signal not able to penetrate the atmosphere. The idea of jury-rigging the comm. system to emit an old-fashioned radio signal like the one that had led them to the 37’s all those years ago crossed his mind. But, the chance was remote to nonexistent of Voyager monitoring the AM band and it was wholly unlikely that the signal would get through in the first place.

He checked the Captain one more time before tucking the blanket closely around her and making his way to the opening in the side of the shuttle. He scanned the area around the vessel and was pleased to see that although there were numerous animals still roaming the jungle, none were venturing close to the Flyer.

Not willing to take any chances, however, Tom armed himself with a phaser and walked the perimeter. Apart from the occasional nocturnal animal noise, all was quiet. On his way back to the ‘door’ he stopped dead in his tracks – staring in sudden realisation at the outside of the Flyer. The reason there was a gaping hole in the side was because the port nacelle had been sheared off in the crash. It was lying about fifty feet from where they’d landed and was filled with lots of wonderfully, ignitable plasma.

Voyager was able to _see_ the planet surface; they’d just not been able to scan it. A flare was what they needed – a distress flare similar to those used for centuries by seafaring vessels on Earth – only a hell of a lot bigger. If he could ignite the plasma in a way that didn’t also set fire to the entire forest or blow up the shuttle and them along with it, the plume of burning plasma might be visible from orbit.

Assuming that Voyager hadn’t moved or left them for dead, Tom would have to ensure that the ship was overhead – which meant calculating time, orbits and trajectories. The resulting heat and light of the giant flare should be visible on the Astrometrics viewscreen. Determined to make this work, Tom leapt back inside the shuttle, pulled a PADD from the workstation and, as he kept watch over Janeway, began his calculations.

It took an hour and several revisions before he had his answer. Taking into consideration the planet’s rotational speed, Voyager’s velocity, the height and trajectory of a standard orbit and a rough ‘guesstimate’ by using the stars as co-ordinates to project the Flyer’s placement on the planet surface, Tom calculated that Voyager would fly over their area approximately every three hours and fifteen minutes. That meant he had just over two hours until the next pass. He looked outside at the black of the night sky and decided that he’d be foolish to even consider assembling the nacelle in the dark. This was a job for the daylight hours, so after checking Janeway one more time and scanning the area around the shuttle again, he closed his eyes and dozed for a couple of hours before dawn.

* * *

Kathryn woke to the sound of birdcalls. They weren’t the usual larks and wrens from her home in Indiana, and after she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to orientate herself. The blond head resting against her thigh was definite reminder of their circumstances and she tried not to move as she watched him sleep.

Tom was sitting on the floor against the pilot’s console. Her hand was tucked into his, the medical tricorder beside him, and he looked exhausted. It made her heart ache a little to know that she was in part responsible for the look of worry and weariness on Tom’s face. Even as he slept, his brow was furrowed and reaching with her free hand, Kathryn pushed his hair back from his forehead in an attempt to smooth the lines. His eyes fluttered open and she smiled at his brief look of bewilderment.

She was delighted that he didn’t snatch his hand away or jump to attention. Instead, he smiled, and for a long moment, they looked deeply into one another’s eyes. What she saw there was something she was both thrilled and hesitant to acknowledge.

Kathryn held her breath as Tom reached forward and gently pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. If she wanted to, she could interpret the touch as a purely professional one – a medic checking for fever – and she felt honoured that he would go to so much trouble to give her an easy ‘out’. However, the touch didn’t feel like that to her and from the look in his eyes, the meaning behind it appeared to be mutual. She lifted her hand and covered his. The tension was excruciating but just as she was about to turn her head and press her lips to his fingers, the perimeter alarm sounded. Grabbing a phaser, Tom leapt to his feet and was out of the shuttle before she had time to lower her hand.

God damn it!

Kathryn took some deep calming breaths. What the hell was she doing? Her head injury must be a lot worse than she first thought. She obviously was not in her right mind.

This was playing with fire and resolved, right there and then, to stay well away. Tom was her pilot, he was also her subordinate and as captain, fraternising with someone of lower rank was forbidden.

No; that was a lie too, one she’d perpetuated for years to keep Chakotay at bay. She’d loved him so deeply and so all-consumingly that she feared by letting him in and allowing him to love her, that the desire to return to Earth would evaporate in the heat of their passion for one another. It was something that she couldn’t risk, so she’d maintained the rigid barriers of protocol.

Technically, fraternising wasn’t forbidden but it was considered extremely bad form. As captain, an affair with someone on your staff left you open to claims of favouritism and discrimination. It was never a good idea. But damn it, she was so lonely and hadn’t felt like this for such a long time.

What she’d felt for Chakotay had nourished her for years but time and circumstances had been their enemy, and in the end, he’d moved on. As sad as that was, it meant that she was now more alone than ever and after almost seven years of this self-imposed solitary existence, she felt a sense of desperation that worried her. She needed someone to fill the void that Chakotay had left in her life.

Perhaps it was merely by accident that she and Tom had found themselves in this predicament. Both of them were vulnerable at present. He’d recently been victim to an unhappy break up with B’Elanna and she’d been tossed over for a girl half her age – her own protégé no less. It was a sorry state of affairs but Chakotay was unaware that she knew of his latest indiscretion. Neither he nor Seven could keep something like that from her; besides they weren’t particularly quiet when they made love and with his quarters directly beside hers, their assignations left little to the imagination.

Initially, Kathryn had been horrified and heartbroken but the bitterness had quickly given way to a sense of inevitability and shrugging acceptance. Her sanguine response to his defection had surprised even her and although she’d been sad at the squandering of such a meaningful relationship, circumstances dictated that she move on. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to do so, and chances were it wouldn’t be the last.

For a smart man, Chakotay was interminably stupid when it came to women, and Kathryn knew that his relationship with Seven was doomed. He was so blinded by his current infatuation, he couldn’t see the writing on the wall when the twenty-something virtual adolescent would grow tired of the almost fifty year old First Officer and move on.

Seven was experimenting – as she was wont to do – with no regard for the consequences of her actions. And Chakotay’s vanity impeded his ability to see that he was just another stepping-stone in a long line of the same on which the young Borg had tread in her quest for humanity. Kathryn had been the jumping off point and from there, Seven had relentlessly ploughed forward. In all her childish selfishness, she wasn’t above using whoever was most convenient to further her own ends. It was apparent that in Seven’s estimation, the only person’s feelings that were not irrelevant were her own.

There was disaster in the offing for Chakotay but Kathryn couldn’t concern herself with that now. Perhaps if she were a better friend she would have spoken to him and warned him about what was in store, but his clandestine approach to the affair and his reluctance to speak to anyone about it had made her less than supportive. Besides, he was a grown man who should have known better. It was about time he learned from his mistakes.

Kathryn wondered if Tom knew of Chakotay’s latest fling – not that it really mattered but still, she wondered.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Tom re-entered the Flyer.

She turned towards him. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it was just an inquisitive bird; the noise frightened it away.”

Kathryn nodded and tried to sit up but Tom rushed to her side and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“Please, Captain. I want you to stay where you are.”

“Oh no, you don’t. I need to use the little girl’s room.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “Well, if you can hang on for a moment longer, I need to check that you’re okay to be up and about.”

Kathryn smiled. “It had better be an affirmative or else we’re in big trouble.”

Tom waved the small scanner over her, his face passive, but Kathryn could see a small smile tugging at his lips. He eventually met her eyes and gave her a nod. “You’re going to be bit unsteady once you’re upright and I’ll help you to the john, but you’re on your own from there.”

“I’m glad to hear it. No more bleeding?”

“No, but I want you to take this very slowly. Okay, swing your legs over the side first and then just sit for a moment while you get your balance.”

Kathryn did as she was asked. She didn’t want to risk another haemorrhage – third time may not be so lucky.

Tom kept his eye on the readings while Kathryn sat on the edge of the pilot’s seat. He gave her a nod. “Okay, so far so good. Now, pivot to your feet, nice and slowly, and hang onto my arm.”

Kathryn stood on wobbly legs; she couldn’t believe how weak she was and it brought home resoundingly just how close she’d come to catastrophe. Squeezing Tom’s arm, she nodded to him to let him know that she was all right. “We’re up.”

“You’re doing great, Captain. Now comes the hard part… convincing your legs to work. Left foot forward, okay, and we’ll see how we go.”

“I feel ridiculous. I know what I want to do but it’s as though the messages are taking the scenic route.”

Tom smiled and tucked his arm around her waist to shoulder some of the weight as she teetered precariously. “I’m amazed that you’re able to manage this. By rights you should still be unconscious.”

Kathryn huffed. “You should know me better than that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I do. How does that feel now that you’re vertical?”

“Not too bad. The world is a bit off kilter but it’s getting steadier. I’m ready to take a few more steps.”

“Hold on and we’ll try to make it to the aft section. I cleared a path last night – I had a feeling we’d be making this trek today.”

With his arm wrapped tightly around her, they made the fifteen paces to the aft section and the shuttle’s amenities. He entered the bathroom with her but she gave him a withering look when he asked if she needed a hand.

Kathryn almost laughed aloud as she watched him back out of the room with his arms raised in surrender, but she reassured him that if she felt anything unusual that would call him straight away, decorum notwithstanding.

He’d nodded, smiling broadly. “Yeah, dying on the john is not the most glamorous way to go, so don’t be coy.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Noted.”

As it was, she was fine and made it back to the door without any problems. Her legs were still weak but she was slowly gaining strength.

After some food and drink in the form of ration bars and water, Tom made a comfortable place for her to sit near the opening in the side of the shuttle so she could help him iron out some of the trickier engineering aspects of using the detached nacelle as a giant flare gun.

She was impressed with his ingenuity but when using plasma there was little room for error, so while Tom was lugging the equipment a safe distance from the Flyer, Kathryn rigged a remote device to ignite it.

The crashed Delta Flyer had ploughed a two hundred meter swathe through the jungle and undergrowth before coming to rest in its current position. Kathryn watched as Tom, using a modified stretcher, dragged the nacelle halfway up the clearing and then dug a hole into which he levered it into an upright position. He braced the large torpedo shaped device with timbers and packed dirt around the base to ensure that it was stable.

It was a long shot but Kathryn agreed with Tom that this was worth a try. With their technology next to useless, it was back to the basics.

They sat biding their time, but now that the urgency of getting the plasma flare in place had passed, an awkwardness had crept into their conversation and small talk soon petered out to nothing.

After ten minutes, the silence became so intolerable that Kathryn felt compelled to say something to break the impasse. Turning towards her companion, she patted his forearm. “It will be good to get back to Voyager, and Tom, thank you for what you did yesterday. I know you would have done the same for any of the crew but I want you to know that I’m aware of just how close a call it was. I appreciate your expertise and quick reactions. I was very fortunate that you were here.”

Kathryn smiled but she knew it looked forced; she could hear the stilted edge to her words. It wasn’t how she’d meant to sound but she felt she had to get things back to an even keel. This tension between them was uncomfortable and unprofessional.

He returned her smile, but there was a shimmer of disappointment in his eyes when all he said was, “We were both lucky.”

Kathryn wasn’t sure what that meant and couldn’t bring herself to ask, so instead she picked up the ignition button and checked the calibration while they both went back to their silent waiting.

* * *

Tom wasn’t sure what was happening. One moment they were like old friends laughing and teasing, and in the next, they were timid and wary, circling one another and afraid to speak in case either one said something that would be misconstrued.

Whatever was happening, it was torture. He just hoped that the flare would work so they could return to the ship and their regular lives as soon as possible. If they had to stay on this planet much longer, he was likely to say something that would compromise his position as pilot and/or his standing in his captain’s eyes – neither of which was an option.

To take up some time, he scanned Janeway again and checked all of her baseline observations. There was still some swelling in her brain, but apart from that, she was healed.

The hour slowly approached and the tension between them built. Tom made several unnecessary trips to the nacelle to ‘check’ that everything was ready. At last, the moment arrived and after helping Janeway to the far side of the Flyer and waiting for the time he’d calculated that Voyager would be watching, he took the ignition switch and pressed the button.

The ignition began with a high-pitched hissing sound that quickly crescendoed to a dull roar and he watched awestruck as a plume of burning plasma shot some three hundred meters into the air. The heat of the blast could be felt from where he stood and he willed the nacelle to remain upright. If it should topple in their direction while it was spewing its fiery payload, they’d be goners.

He had his fingers crossed that his calculations were close to correct and that Voyager had seen the flare. After thirty seconds, the plasma was exhausted and the plume sputtered out to nothing.

The subsequent silence was almost as deafening as the plasma’s roar.

He turned around and nodded to Janeway.

She shrugged. “Now we wait.”

### Chapter Six

Kathryn closed her eyes and prayed that Voyager had seen their distress signal. They had the plasma from the other nacelle for a second attempt but she hoped that they didn’t have to go through this again. It was a dangerous procedure and she hated the idea of pushing their luck.

To help any search parties, Tom lit a large fire near the nacelle in hope that the smoke would help pinpoint their location. No sooner had he trudged back to the Flyer a few minutes later, than they heard the whine of a shuttle engine.

They smiled broadly and took a couple of steps towards one another before they averted their gazes and stopped mid stride. Kathryn side stepped him awkwardly and reached for the tricorder. “It’s not one of ours. It must be a Darnathian shuttle.”

They stood close to the Flyer and watched as the unfamiliar vessel touched down nearby. The rear door opened and Chakotay and Harry jumped from the open hatch. They looked greatly relieved and jogged towards them.

“Kathryn, are you okay?”

Chakotay seemed genuinely concerned and Kathryn smiled warmly. “Yes, thanks to Mr Paris, but I’m afraid we lost Ensign McMinn.”

Harry clapped Tom on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you. We had no end of trouble finding you. This planet is one giant haystack.”

Tom returned Harry’s half embrace. “And we’re the needles… thanks, I think.” He then turned to Chakotay. “The Captain needs to get to sickbay as soon as possible.”

Chakotay turned to her and frowned. “Kathryn?”

“I’m fine. I had a head injury but Tom took care of it.”

_“She needs to get there now.”_

Kathryn wasn’t the only one surprised by Tom’s uncompromising insistence but she almost smiled as she watched Chakotay slip what she assumed was a Darnathian communication device from his belt and contacted Tuvok. “We’ve got them, Tuvok, but the Captain needs to get to Sickbay immediately.”

“I will alert the Doctor and beam the Captain aboard when your shuttle is within transporter range.”

Kathryn was confused. “I didn’t think the transporters were able to penetrate the displacement field.”

Chakotay moved to her side and took her elbow, explaining as he escorted her to the shuttle. “It seems that most of out technology is incompatible with the Darnathian upper atmosphere. We had no idea and only realised the Flyer was missing when Vixor Strout contacted us after hearing from the planetary authorities that you hadn’t arrived at your destination.

“We sent another shuttle after you but it struck similar problems. Fortunately, we were able to retrieve it before it lost power completely. We’ve been using the Darnath shuttles to ferry search parties to and from Voyager. The government has gone out of their way to assist us in lending equipment and manpower, but because of the ion distortion in the atmosphere we were searching grid by grid.”

Kathryn understood the basics of the technological problems and would investigate further once she’d been given the all-clear by the Doctor.

Harry joined in. “Yeah, if it hadn’t been for the fireworks, we might have been days. Great idea by the way, using the nacelle.”

“You can thank Mr. Paris for that.”

“Trust you to find something to blow up.” Harry grinned at his friend.

“Good work, Tom.”

Tom waved off Chakotay’s compliment and glanced at Kathryn.

With a firm grip on her elbow, Chakotay was silently urging her towards the shuttle but she had to make sure that Tara McMinn was brought to the shuttle as well. She stopped and turned, meeting Tom’s eyes across the space between them. He nodded towards her, the unspoken understanding in his look tugging painfully at her heart.

He gripped Harry’s shoulder. “Will you help me with Tara? We need to get her home.”

Harry nodded grimly and the two friends disappeared into the damaged Flyer. Kathryn turned to meet Chakotay’s eyes. Although the look was reassuringly familiar, it didn’t hold the same sense of solidarity it once had and after giving him a sad smile, she made the last few steps towards the shuttle on her own.

* * *

Once Ensign McMinn’s body was on board, and Harry and Tom had settled into their seats, the Darnath pilot wasted no time lifting off and setting a course towards Voyager. As the slightly battle worn but majestic Starship came into view, Kathryn felt the usual wash of relief and pride. It really was the most beautiful vessel ever built and Kathryn loved her with a passion. But like a jealous mistress, she demanded that Kathryn, as her caretaker, be victim to the whims and burdens of that position.

Kathryn’s time and commitment to Voyager came first and foremost, and as much as she loved her ship, there was, as in most relationships, a small edge of resentment at the constancy of the demands and unrelenting sacrifice.

What she wouldn’t give to just step away for a short time; to pretend she wasn’t Captain Kathryn Janeway and simply be herself – if she could remember who that was.

Chakotay touched her hand. “Are you all right, Kathryn? You’re very quiet.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Just tired.” Perhaps she was just imagining it, but there was a hint of boredom in Chakotay’s tone – as though his mind was elsewhere and he was merely mouthing what was expected of him to his so-called friend, but Kathryn didn’t feel like analysing the why’s and wherefore’s right then. That was for later, in the quiet solitude of her quarters.

Within a few minutes, they were through the ionosphere and Tuvok’s calm voice came over the comm.. “Voyager is waiting to transport.”

Chakotay turned to Kathryn. “Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Five to beam aboard, Tuvok. Transport Ensign McMinn’s body to the morgue and the rest of the away team to Sickbay.”

“Aye, Commander. Energising.”

Kathryn felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam and a split second later, she was looking into the scowling face of Voyager’s EMH.

He was already aiming a medical scanner at her as he motioned her towards the biobed. “Welcome home, Captain. Please lie down. Mr Paris, your report.”

From her supine position on the biobed, Kathryn watched the faces of the men around her as Tom outlined the series of incidents that had occurred over the last twenty-four hours. The instant he mentioned the subdural haemorrhage, the Doctor leapt into action and pressed a cortical monitor to her forehead as the arms of the biobed closed over her middle. He harrumphed and hemmed as he studied the readings.

“Interesting procedure, Mr Paris. A protoplaser you say?”

She couldn’t bear the thought of the Doctor belittling what Tom had done. The EMH could be such a pedantic pain in the ass sometimes. “I have Mr. Paris to thank, Doctor. He saved my life. I wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t reacted so quickly and -”

“You’re absolutely right, Captain. An excellent job, Mr. Paris; you are to be commended.”

Kathryn smiled at Tom and he gave her a small one in return. “Permission to go to my quarters.”

The Doctor looked up at him and then at Kathryn.

She nodded. “Permission granted.”

Without another word, Tom turned and left Sickbay, and as Kathryn watched him leave, she felt a strange sense of foreboding.

Harry excused himself and followed his friend. Kathryn hoped that he would make sure Tom was all right.

The Doctor assured Chakotay that she would be up and about in a matter of hours. Satisfied with the news, the commander also left the bay, returning to the Bridge to begin supply and shore leave-oriented negotiations.

“Well, Captain, now that we’re alone, let’s get you back to your usual overworked, overtired and overcaffeined self.”

Kathryn slid her eyes towards him, her voice dripped sarcasm. “I would appreciate that, thank you, Doctor.”

He gave her a tentative smile. “You’re going to be just fine, Captain. I have to sedate you for a short time but afterwards, you will be free to return to your quarters as long as you promise to remain off duty for twenty-four hours.”

Kathryn merely nodded and the Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No arguments, Captain?”

“Not this time, Doctor.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Sweet dreams.” And with that, he placed a hypospray against her neck and the last thing she heard was the familiar hiss.

* * *

Tom slowly walked back to his quarters with Harry chatting by his side. He was only half listening to what his friend was saying, his thoughts still in Sickbay with the Captain, and he wondered what the hell he was going to do.

On the planet, their rapport had all seemed so simple – in a complex way – with her life hanging in the balance. Why was it that life and death struggles seemed to make things so clear, only to have confusion reign once things returned to normal? Why couldn’t life be easy and straightforward?

“Should I turn you around and take you back to Sickbay?” Harry grabbed Tom’s arm, stopping him outside his quarters.

“Huh?” Tom was so lost in thought that he hadn’t realised that they’d arrived at his door.

“You’re too quiet. Are you sure you didn’t bump your noggin too?”

Tom shook his head. “No, I’m fine. It’s been a long couple of days and I’m exhausted. A decent meal and a good night’s sleep is what I need.”

“Do you want some company? I’m free for a couple of hours before Megan and Jen finish their shift.”

Tom shook his head. “No, I think I’ll just crash but thanks.”

“Okay, but comm. me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll be fine.”

Harry nodded but Tom could tell he wasn’t convinced. But without the energy to push the point, he just keyed in his code and slipped through the door into his quarters.

The first thing he did was replicate a pizza and a beer. Comfort food was an excellent stopgap when nothing else was on offer. After he’d wolfed down four large slices and downed his beer, he headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later, after throwing on a pair of sweats and a tee, he wandered out to the living area again feeling much more human. What he really needed to do was sleep but he couldn’t relax until he knew how the Captain was. Unable to put it off any longer, he contacted Sickbay.

“Paris to Sickbay.”

_“The Doctor here, Mr. Paris, what can I do for you?”_

“I was just wondering how the Captain was.”

_“She’s fine and I released her to her quarters about twenty minutes ago.”_

“That’s great. Thanks, Doc.”

 _“No, **thank you**_ _, Mr. Paris. It would have been a very different outcome if you hadn’t diagnosed the Captain’s condition and treated her so promptly and thoroughly. She owes you her life.”_

“Well, I guess that makes us even then.”

There was silence on the other end of the link and Tom could almost picture the confusion on the EMH’s face.

He eventually answered with a level of understanding that impressed Tom. _“That’s true for many of us, Mr. Paris.”_ There was another pause before the Doctor continued. _“Sleep well, Lieutenant. You’ve earned it.”_

“Night, Doc. And thanks.”

_“You’re most welcome.”_

Relieved that the Captain was fully recovered but wondering what the future held, Tom headed to bed. He was pulling back the covers when his door chimed.

It was probably Harry back to check on him. He stepped away from the bed and moved towards the door. “Enter.”

It wasn’t Harry; it was Janeway.

“Captain!” He couldn’t hide his surprise. She was here, outside his quarters, wearing that same blue dress she’d worn to Sandrine’s a few nights ago – although that evening seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Tom, I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No. Please come in. Can I get you something?”

“No, thank you. I just wanted to thank you personally for what you did down on the planet – everything from saving my life and taking care of Tara to engineering the flare. I’m going to put a commendation in your file and I thought you’d like to know.”

He couldn’t care less about the commendation, but the fact that Janeway was here and telling him to his face that she appreciated what he’d done was more than enough thanks. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Your father would be very proud.”

Tom shrugged, not entirely sure that she was right about that, but glad that she approved. “I think he would be relieved to know that you’re all right.”

She frowned. “Don’t underestimate what you did today Tom. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

Again, he shrugged. What he’d done hadn’t been a conscious decision. He’d had no choice. There was no way in hell that he would let her die without a fight; it was as simple as that. He couldn’t tell her that though so instead, he held her gaze, his intense look at odds with his glib words. “Just glad I could help.”

There was a long pause before she took a tentative step towards him; she spoke quietly and slowly. “I wanted to talk to you about the other things that happened on Darnath.”

He frowned and then nodded resignedly. He’d known this was coming – a short, sharp rejection of anything that could have been interpreted as more than customary captain to subordinate rapport. For a moment he felt a fleeting sense of camaraderie with Chakotay – the old man must have heard this speech more than once. Tom braced himself.

There was another long moment of quiet and Tom wondered if she could hear the crackle of tension in the air between them. If she was going to dash his hopes, he just wished she’d do it quickly so he could get back to his regular depressing thoughts.

Taking a step forward, Janeway reached towards him. Tom almost baulked at the move but it was as though a switch was thrown and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers – the unspoken plea in their blue depths nearly knocking him double. Something connected; he could swear he heard the snap. And then it happened.

Her hand came to rest on his forearm and in the next instant, he had her pressed up against the wall of his quarters, his arms wrapped around her, his lips crushed against hers in a bruising kiss as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

Her body shuddered and arched against his and he was achingly hard within seconds.

Groaning into her mouth, he pulled away from her and panted into her face. “Oh god!”

Her hands tugged at his hair as she pulled his mouth back to hers and kissed him hard. There was no hesitation in the way she plundered his mouth and he knew, without a doubt that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Janeway’s hands were pushing up under his tee, her nails clawing across his abdomen, her fingers tangling in the hair on his chest. It was driving him insane and without lifting his lips from hers, he reached between them and hooked his hands into the front of her dress. His fantasy of rending the bodice in two and making love to her breasts was about to come true, and with the sound of tearing material, she whimpered into his mouth before pulling back, arching so that her breasts were exposed to his hands and mouth.

Tom couldn’t believe that this was happening but as he lifted her higher to nuzzle her breasts and lick at her nipples, she wrapped her legs around his hips to rock against him, and he knew it was true.

She was voracious, desperate, and he realised then that this was likely the first time that she’d made love in years, possibly since before they’d left Earth.

The realisation sobered him and he began to temper his touches and gentle their frenzied embrace.

He whispered her name, “Kathryn.”

### Chapter Seven

He’d said her name. It sounded strange and at first Kathryn didn’t respond but a glimmer of cool reason suddenly returned and she pulled back to look at him. For a long moment she merely stared, almost surprised to find Tom there. Then comprehension dawned. She’d done what she’d always promised herself she would never do.

She’d forced herself on him – her subordinate – placing him in an untenable position and compromising everything that she stood for as an officer and a woman. Pulling away, Kathryn tugged her bodice together as she tried to regain some measure of decorum. She was devastated and deeply embarrassed.

“Kathryn, please don’t.” Tom’s hands came to rest over hers and he gently pulled them away from her breasts. She watched him lower his head and kiss her nipples, nuzzling at them as he tenderly cradled each breast in turn, his thumb flicking over the hardening tips.

As his captain, she was compelled to ask the question, but it also came from a woman ten years his senior. “Are you sure, Tom?”

He didn’t say a word but in a heartbeat, his mouth descended on hers, his lips warm and softly demanding, and his answer was clear.

Together they stumbled to the bed and before she’d had a chance to catch her breath, he’d discarded his tee and was kneeling between her legs, pushing her dress up her thighs, his lips following his hands as he kissed his way to her centre. Her hands tangled in his hair as she guided him to her.

His mouth pressed over her panty-clad mons, his hot breath sending a warm rush of arousal from deep in her belly and she sighed loudly. Her panties disappeared in one tug and then his mouth was on her, his tongue lapping at her juices and his fingers prising her lips apart to lave at her opening. His thumb rubbed her clitoris in small circles as he mumbled how beautiful she was against her hot flesh.

Kathryn writhed in ecstasy, her moment of hesitation forgotten as she immersed herself in the sensations of their lovemaking. With her eyes closed, she gave herself over to the soul-wrenching freedom of someone else’s hands on and in her body – touching, tasting and driving her inexorably towards her climax.

She needed him inside her and began pulling him up her body, urging him higher. His lips found hers and she tasted herself on him as he kissed her deeply. He read her need and she helped push his sweats over his hips before his rose up over her, positioning himself at her opening.

He entered her slowly, pushing past the tight muscles and into the welcoming warmth of her body.

A keening cry escaped her as he thrust deeply, pressing against her cervix before he slid almost all the way out again. The emptiness left her desperate for more and she moaned appreciatively as he pressed forward once again.

She’d never been vocal during lovemaking but that was seven years ago and times and circumstances had changed. In a succession of groans and whimpers, she rose up to meet his thrusts, each one deeper and stronger than the last.

They were both spiralling towards their climaxes and Kathryn could feel the telltale tightening of her belly and a tingle moving up from her thighs. She was lost in the pure abandonment of the act; it had been years and she’d forgotten just how liberating it was to allow her body to dictate her wants.

His pounding thrusts jarred her whole being, her breasts jolted in concert as her legs spread wider to draw him deeper.

They were both so close. Kathryn could feel him tightening and swelling within her and after a series of jagged thrusts, he grunted and pushed deep, grinding against her.

Kathryn’s orgasm hit and she arched her back, the juddering spasms gripping him tightly inside her. He howled as she cried out and together they yelled,

_“Chakotay!”_

_“B’Elanna!”_

Kathryn’s eyes snapped open, to meet the horrified blue eyes above her. The realisation of what they’d said dousing their desire like a bucket of cold water.

Tom collapsed onto her but rolled to his side almost immediately. Kathryn wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye. Ever again.

He was braver than she was though, and turned towards her. “I’m sorry.”

Kathryn blinked slowly and met his gaze. “I don’t… I’m sorry, too.”

They lay there beside one another for several minutes, both flushed and damp from their encounter and unsure of what to do next.

Then, in a gentle gesture, Tom reached towards her and swept her hair from her face. He smiled broadly, his eyes glinting with mischief and she loved him for what he said next. “You know, that was pretty fantastic even if we weren’t really making love to one another.”

Kathryn bit her bottom lip and then a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as well. “It was pretty damned good in fact.”

Leaning forward, Tom kissed her forehead softly and then tugged her close to his side and pulled the sheet over them. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you know.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. I had an almost debilitating crush on you when I first came on board.”

“Is that why you were so obnoxious?”

“Probably.” He laughed and Kathryn chuckled quietly. After a moment, she wriggled a little closer to his side and sighed. “You know, this is nice.”

“It is. Very nice.”

Kathryn lay in Tom’s arms looking up at the ceiling and wondered what had happened. The tension and uneasiness that had plagued them for the last couple of days had suddenly dissipated. By rights, they should be feeling more awkward and mortally embarrassed by what had happened but instead it had cleared the air and blown the cobwebs from all the tangled feelings and yearnings. She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was thinking about cobwebs.”

Tom looked at her and grinned. “Cobwebs, huh? I know it’s been a while for you but I can assure you, there are no cobwebs down there.”

She snorted and gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs. “Charming.”

He laughed at her and she began to chuckle along with him. Then with their arms wrapped around one another, months or maybe years of tension and anguish released in wave after wave of hysterical laughter. Together they guffawed and chortled until they were breathless.

* * *

Once they’d calmed down, they talked. With their naked bodies pressed together under the sheets in the dim light of his quarters, they spoke of their fears and their wants, their loves and their losses.

And then they came together again. This time it was a clear-headed shared experience, each giving the other pleasure and receiving it with heartfelt appreciation. It wasn’t love, but neither of them expected it to be. It was deep affection, and to Kathryn’s way of thinking, this was better, simpler and equally satisfying.

A couple of hours later, they climbed out of bed, showered and donned their clothes – Kathryn in a freshly replicated dress – and afterwards they sat on the floor in front of the television and ate the rest of Tom’s pizza.

They laughed through several cartoons and while they were clearing up the dishes, Kathryn turned to Tom and put to him a proposition.

“Do you think we could do this again sometime? I haven’t had this much fun in years.”

“Are we talking pizza and TV or _sex_ , pizza and TV?”

“The latter, if that’s not asking too much. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

He grinned. “Are you kidding?”

Kathryn reached up and kissed his cheek. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Tom, you’re a good man and I love you but I’m not _in_ love with you.”

“Ditto. Friends with benefits, I think they call it.”

Kathryn beamed. “I’ve heard it called something slightly different but that will do and next time the pizza’s on me.”

“Ah, eating pizza off your naked body sounds like an excellent idea. I’ll be into that.”

Kathryn laughed; she felt wonderful – reborn in a way she couldn’t have imagined. They understood one another on an intrinsic level. Having spoken to one another of their innermost thoughts and feelings, there was nothing to hide and nothing that could come between them.

During that earlier conversation, Tom had asked her if she still loved Chakotay and when she’d looked deep into her heart she’d found herself admitting that yes, she did, and that as much as she’d tried to convince herself otherwise, she’d loved him so deeply for so long that it was impossible to imagine not feeling that way. The emotions were complex and convoluted, the relationship complicated by their differences as well as their similarities. However difficult it had been though, she’d accepted that he’d moved on.

She’d turned to Tom and asked the same question of him. Did he still love B’Elanna? He’d nodded without hesitation, then shrugged and confessed that he always would. According to him, she was the sort of woman who got under his skin and it was impossible to fall out of love with her. She’d broken his heart but as pathetic as it sounded, he’d take her back in a heartbeat if she asked.

On that, they made a pact. If either of their ‘loves’ returned to them, the ‘sex and pizza’ deal would be off. And they both smiled as they shook on it.

* * *

The arrangement worked beautifully and Tom couldn’t have been happier. On duty, nothing was different. He was still the slightly annoying but amusing devil-may-care pilot, but off duty, when their shifts and other commitments allowed, he and Kathryn met in the holodeck and had sex. It had given him a new lease on life and he knew that Kathryn felt the same.

She’d told him so and thanked him for his support when only a few days after their return, they, along with most of the crew, had attended Tara McMinn’s memorial service and wake. It was just as Tom had imagined and he knew that Tara would have loved the party at Sullivan’s thrown in her honour. Kathryn had quietly supported Freddy Bristow through his grief during the ceremony and put on a brave face for the crew during the speeches. But she’d cried in Tom’s arms later that night. It had been a moment of profound trust that had cemented their friendship.

* * *

For several months, everything went swimmingly until one night, the shit hit the warp core big time and what had been so simple and enjoyable suddenly became uncomfortably complicated.

The stupid thing was that he’d only been delivering a report to Kathryn’s quarters. They’d never had an assignation there; it was too obvious and far too risky. But after he’d given her the PADD, he’d stayed to enjoy a glass of wine and her company. As he was leaving, Kathryn had cupped his cheek and brushed her hand down his front as he stepped through the door into the corridor. He’d been grinning like an idiot, only to turn around after the doors had closed to find Chakotay standing a few feet up the passageway watching.

The older man’s face looked like thunder and Tom made the mistake of trying to brazen his way out of the situation.

“Hi, Chakotay. Late night?”

“What the fuck are you doing, Paris?”

The man was livid but Tom couldn’t help himself. Chakotay’s unwarranted indignation was like a red rag to a bull. “None of your business, _sir_.”

“The hell it isn’t. What were you doing in the captain’s quarters and what was that ridiculous display about?”

Tom huffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“ _Yes_ , I would.” Chakotay took a couple of challenging steps towards Tom, his anger glaringly evident in his eyes.

“Well, I could tell you to ask the Captain, but I doubt she’d oblige and besides, you have no right to ask.”

“The hell I haven’t. Stay away from her or so help me -”

“What?! You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too, you know. _And_ there’s no second chance either. You blew it. _Your_ problem.” Tom knew he should shut up but he was on a roll and wanted Chakotay to know that he was a wake up to him. “I bet Seven would be interested in why you’re so jealous.” Tom was pleased to see Chakotay’s eyes widen in shock with revelation that he was aware of the older man’s affair, but he couldn’t leave it there and goaded him further. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d find it most enlightening.”

Tom didn’t see it coming, but when Chakotay’s fist connected with his jaw, he saw stars. Staggering backwards, he fell hard against the bulkhead.

Shaking his head to clear his vision and holding his jaw to check that it was in one piece, he threw back at Chakotay. “Yeah, I’m sure Seven would be _really_ interested in how impartial you are in regard to the Captain. Nice one, big guy.”

Chakotay’s eyes narrowed and Tom waited for the follow through and the inevitable broken jaw or nose but Chakotay punched the wall beside his head instead and glared menacingly. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near her again, do you hear?”

Tom stood tall and advanced on his First Officer. He could also be intimidating if he wanted to be. “Back off, Chakotay. You gave up your right to dictate what happens to the Captain the minute you took Seven to your bed. _You_ leave her alone and let her get on with her life. If you really want to know what I was doing there, I was delivering a report and visiting a friend. You need to have a long hard look at yourself before you start on me.” He leaned closer and snarled. “And don’t ever hit me again.”

Unsurprisingly, the older man wasn’t the least bit cowed but he said nothing else, merely shouldered past Tom and strode up the corridor to his quarters.

Tom was in two minds whether to say something to Kathryn about what had happened but decided that for now she didn’t need to know. It would only increase the tension on the Bridge and as it stood, Chakotay didn’t know for sure that there was anything going on.

They would just have to be more vigilant and be even more discreet with any further rendezvous.

* * *

Their next assignation didn’t happen for a couple of weeks and when Kathryn called him to the holodeck, he’d frowned at the tremor in her voice. He wondered if she’d had a confrontation with Chakotay and if so, what the big oaf had said to her. Tom didn’t care if he finished up in the Brig; if the old man had hurt Kathryn in any way, teaching him a lesson would be worth a stint in solitary. All those years of Klingon battle scenarios with B’Elanna had left their mark and these days he was no slouch at hand to hand combat. Slamming his fist into that smug mug of Chakotay’s would be a delight.

After checking the whereabouts of the First Officer – he didn’t want Chakotay to see them together – then rerouting his own commsignal to his quarters, Tom entered Sandrine’s, concern written across his features as he approached his Captain and friend.

“What’s wrong, Kathryn? I came straight away, you sounded upset.”

She looked worried but gave him a tentative smile before beckoning him over to one of the private booths. They sat opposite one another and Tom watched as she fidgeted with her uniform sleeves and flicked at her nails while taking several deep calming breaths.

“Kathryn. What’s happened? Is it Chakotay?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No. Should it be?”

Tom gave an emphatic, “No. I umm… never mind. Have _I_ done something?”

Her eyes darted up to his and she shook her head again. “No, well, not intentionally.”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers to stop her fidgeting. “Tell me, Kathryn, and we’ll sort it out. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you a problem.” He’d be so pissed off with Chakotay if the other man had said anything to make her feel ashamed of what she was doing. Tom wouldn’t put it past him, the fucking hypocrite.

She huffed a deep breath and gave a short, humourless laugh. “Well, in this case it’s your problem too. I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?!”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Keep your voice down. Yes, I think.”

Tom was gobsmacked and then what she’d said registered in his addled brain. “What do you mean, _‘you think’_? Haven’t you been to the Doctor yet?”

“God no. How would I explain it to the Doctor? But I’m late, two weeks late and that never happens.”

“But we’re both on boosters. How the hell did it happen?”

Her voice rose an octave. “How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re the medic, you tell me.”

He squeezed her hands and calmed his own panic. “It’s okay. Look, we’ll work something out. You won’t have to go through this alone.”

“I can’t go through with this at all. I can’t have a baby, Tom. It was never part of the plan. It’s just wrong on so many levels.”

“Look, before we get ourselves into a complete state, at least let me get a tricorder and check to make sure. There are a dozen reasons why you could be late and only one of them is pregnancy. We could be having kittens over nothing.”

She glared at him and he gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, bad choice of metaphor.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Although, they’d be a lot easier to explain…” Kathryn’s eyes widened and Tom quickly back-pedalled. “…but that’s not important. Wait here and I’ll be back with the tricorder.”

“For god’s sake don’t mention anything to the Doctor; you know how he is.”

“Not a word. Are you okay to wait here on your own?”

She frowned at him and flicked her hand. “Of course, I am. Go and hurry.”

Tom took off towards the doors but turned just before he exited to see her drop her head into her hands and her shoulders slump. He dearly wanted to comfort her but the tricorder was more urgent, so he took off at a run.

### Chapter Eight

Kathryn couldn’t believe this was happening. It just went to prove that captains shouldn’t have sex with anyone – ever. _Goddamn it!_ This was some sort of cosmic retribution for breaking the rules and daring to have something of a life away from the Bridge. She should have known it couldn’t be so simple.

It had been wonderful though; the last few months had been a godsend. She and Tom had found an easy rhythm to their relationship. Because it was based on mutual need and not on love, there wasn’t any of the usual baggage associated with the beginnings of an intense love affair. If one or the other of them couldn’t make it to a rendezvous, there was no recrimination, no hurt feelings or retaliation. The sex was great, the conversation even better and they’d forged a deep and mutually respectful friendship.

It had other benefits as well. She’d begun socialising with the crew; Tom’s friends had become her friends and the social interaction was rejuvenating – with an added bonus of it being a shot in the arm for shipboard morale. The crew loved to see their captain out and about and happy, and even Tuvok had commented on the increase in productivity and commitment to task since she’d been in better spirits. No one was aware of the intimacy that she and Tom shared but the crew had noticed her cooling friendship with Chakotay and this was enough to serve as a reason for her presence in their midst.

The regular group consisted of Tom, Harry, Jenny and Megan Delaney, Neelix, Tuvok – when he deigned to join them, Ayala, Dalby and others on the periphery. Once they’d learned to relax in her company, talk had turned to home and family, which had led to the tossing around of ideas and theories for finding a quicker way home. Some had suggested enhancing Voyager’s engines, resurrecting the slipstream drive, looking for more Vàadwaur tunnels or even trying to recreate the Sikarian super transporter.

With this new injection of enthusiasm, the whole tone of the ship changed and the fervour to get home found new life.

Kathryn couldn’t have been happier, but with this latest development, the ominous words of her mother’s Aunt Lottie came back to haunt her. ‘Reap what you sow, girlie, reap what you sow.’ Well, she’d certainly been doing a lot of ‘sowing’ lately and this was where it had landed her.

“Captain, may I offer you my congratulations.”

Kathryn’s head shot up and she stared into the calculating blue eyes of Seven of Nine.

“What do you mean, Seven?”

“I overheard your conversation with Mr. Paris. Congratulations is the correct salutation upon learning that someone is expecting an offspring, is it not?”

Kathryn had an overwhelming urge to run screaming from the room. The last person – make that the second to last person – she wanted to know about this was standing by her table with a brow raised, waiting for an appropriate response.

“I think congratulations may be a little premature, Seven, and I am going to ask you to not mention any of this to anyone. Is that understood?”

“Yes, although Chakotay already had suspicions of your liaison with Mr. Paris. He also insisted that it be kept secret, much as he has insisted that we hide our relationship from the rest of the crew.”

“Oh.” Kathryn didn’t know that Chakotay was aware of her and Tom’s relationship but that hardly seemed pertinent right now. She had to make certain that Seven didn’t inadvertently, or intentionally, drop the pregnancy bomb. “Seven, it’s most important that you not tell anyone about this. I hope I can rely upon your discretion and that I don’t have to make it an order.”

Seven appeared unimpressed and merely nodded. “I would do as you ask, Captain, but I have already informed Chakotay.”

“ _You what?!_ How dare you?”

“I tell him everything. It is part of our relationship agenda to keep one another updated with events in our daily routine.”

Kathryn couldn’t believe the horror of what was happening and her eyes darted to the doors expecting Chakotay to come barrelling through them any second. He would be appalled. But what concerned her more was how this would affect Tom, his friends and standing amongst the crew – it would complicate both their lives immeasurably. No matter how she looked at it, this spelled disaster on every front.

Why had she been so weak? Why, after years of abstinence had she succumbed and allowed herself to fall victim to her body’s whims? It would be impossible to explain to Starfleet and she might be forced to stand down as captain. The thought almost made her laugh. It would be the irony to end all ironies if she had to hand over her captaincy to Chakotay because of it. Goddamn it, she wanted to howl. But Seven was still standing by her chair watching her, no doubt cataloguing her reactions, ready to list them to Chakotay later when they’d had their allotted ‘information exchange’. How romantic.

The doors opened and Tom bolted through, skidding to a halt near the bar. He looked over towards her, his eyes almost bugging out on stalks when he saw her companion. Seven turned and raised a brow, then took a step back in silent invitation for Tom to approach. Kathryn wanted her to leave immediately – or sooner if that were possible – but her Borg protégé was having one of her not-infrequent emotionally obtuse moments and she would have to ask her outright to go; relying on Seven’s sensitivity was a lost cause.

“Seven, I need to speak to the Lieutenant alone.”

“Do you wish me to leave, Captain?”

“That’s the general idea. I’ll speak to you later but not a word to anyone else, Seven, do you understand?”

She gave Kathryn one brusque nod, then turned and strode – straight backed and wiggling hips – out of the holodeck.

Kathryn didn’t much like her chances of Seven staying quiet and wouldn’t be surprised to hear before the end of the day’s Alpha shift that Neelix was organising a baby shower.

Tom arrived at the table and sat down opposite her, jabbing his thumb at the departing Seven. “What did she want?”

Kathryn tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “To congratulate us.”

“ _What?!_ How did she…?”

“She overheard us. My fault; I didn’t think to check if anyone else was in here.” She looked at him hopefully. “Did you get a tricorder?”

“Yes, keep still.”

Kathryn held her breath while Tom aimed it at her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. It was why she hadn’t scanned herself. Not knowing anything was preferable to knowing the awful truth.

Tom looked up and then grinned broadly. “Nothing. You’re not pregnant and might I say you have a lovely set of reproductive organs.”

Kathryn wasn’t sure if she wanted to faint or hit him. “Are you sure? Check again.”

“Okay, but I’ve already done it twice and your definitely foetus free, I promise. See.”

He handed her the tricorder so she could see the results. He was right; there was nothing, apart from what was supposed to be there.

Kathryn shoulders slumped and then lifting her head, she heaved a relieved sigh and waved her hand towards the bar. “Two glasses of your best cognac, Mademoiselle.”

Sandrine arrived at the table with a bottle of Courvoisier and three tulip glasses. She pulled out a chair and took a seat, pouring both Tom and Kathryn a glass and one for herself.

Kathryn frowned across at Tom questioningly but he just shrugged and picked up his brandy.

Sandrine gave an impatient flick of her hand toward Kathryn urging her to pick up her drink. “Vite, vite.” She then tapped her glass against both of theirs and in her melodic patois, she toasted. “To whatever the future may ‘old, just ‘old onto your ‘ats.”

Unsure of what that meant but certain that it didn’t bode well, Kathryn nodded warily then sat back, sipped her cognac, allowing the last few moments to quietly settle. Closing her eyes for a couple of heartbeats, she then opened them and watched, with some amusement, as Sandrine began to flirt with Tom.

Kathryn’s relief was palpable but the reprieve only meant that she had some decisions to make about what she and Tom had been doing over the last few months. As enjoyable as it had been, this scare had been a none-too-subtle kick in the pants and it was time she got her priorities straight and sorted out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

Her panicked reaction to the thought of the pregnancy and then her bone-melting relief had surprised her a little. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children; she did and always had, but with Tom, no. And out here in the Delta Quadrant, definitely not.

There was certainly a lot to think about.

It was well into beta shift and Sandrine’s was filling up; the off duty crew were steadily making their way to the holographic bar for some relaxation and to catch up with friends. As the noise level increased, Kathryn found it harder to think. They’d been joined by Harry, Megan and Jenny, and between their raucous laughter, conversation, and French proprietress’ constant badgering, she was getting a headache. She smiled across at Tom and gestured that she was going to leave.

He nodded and leaned across the table. “Comm. if you need anything.”

Kathryn mouthed her thanks and Tom waved before Sandrine again demanded his attention.

She smiled at the crew and stopped to say hello to several of them as she made her way to the door, but noticed B’Elanna sitting by herself in one of the corner booths. Kathryn took a closer look and saw that the younger woman’s eyes were riveted to Tom as he talked and laughed with Sandrine and Harry.

B’Elanna’s expression was wistful and a little sad, and glancing back towards Tom, Kathryn wondered if she should mention it to him. But before she’d had time to mull over the idea, the doors opened again and Chakotay strode into the bar with Seven tottering in his wake.

Kathryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he marched towards her, his face furious and his fists clenched. She braced herself, meeting him head on.

Before he could open his mouth, Kathryn gripped his arm and dragged him over to the side of the room, away from prying eyes and unintentional eavesdroppers. This confrontation was inevitable but she just wished that he’d chosen somewhere less public for their showdown.

He quickly realised her intention and tried to pretend that he was having a friendly conversation with his Captain by smiling at the people he passed. But as far as Kathryn was concerned, his ploy failed miserably. He anger was more than obvious and all eyes followed him as she escorted him across the room.

She saw Tom begin to stand, but she gave her head a quick shake. He took his seat again but kept careful watch. Kathryn was grateful for the show of solidarity but now wasn’t the time. In a rare show of sensitivity, Seven had moved over by the bar and was trying desperately to blend in, but looked ridiculously like a fish out of water.

Finally, they were far enough away from the bulk of the crowd and Kathryn noted that almost everyone’s attention had returned to what they’d been doing before the command team drama had begun.

Chakotay wasted no time with pleasantries and hissed into her face. “Kathryn, how could you? Pregnant! To Paris! I just can’t believe you.”

Her face remained impassive but her blood was boiling. She spoke in quiet measured tones. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. I’m your First Officer and your… your friend.”

Her eyes widened, her brows rising. “You are? Since when?”

“Since forever.”

“Really, a friend hmmm? Well, you must have a very different concept of what it means to be a friend than I do. From my recollection, friends confide in one another and tell each other about the important things happening in their lives. Friends don’t abandon one another without explanation.”

Chakotay opened his mouth to retaliate but then closed it again as he mulled over her accusations. His voice was much softer, with a hint of contrition when he answered. “No, they don’t. I’m sorry, but I had my reasons.” Again, there was a pause as he looked at her, then his shoulders dropped. “But Paris?”

“Tom is a good friend and it has nothing to do with you. I resent your interference and I don’t wish to discuss this with you anymore.”

She turned to walk away but Chakotay gently gripped her forearm. “When is it due?”

“What?”

“Your baby.” His voice had risen.

A few of the crew had edged closer and Kathryn noticed their heads snap towards them. She feigned puzzlement and then spoke loudly for the benefit of those within range. “Where the hell did you hear that? There’s _no_ baby. Honestly, Chakotay, I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. You might want to get your story straight before you start making accusations of that nature.”

Kathryn watched him glance towards Seven and then back at her. “It’s not true then?”

She huffed derisively. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd. And you might want to tell your _girlfriend_ over there that it’s not advisable to start such rumours about her commanding officer. People have landed in the Brig for less.”

He looked genuinely distressed. _“My girlfriend?!”_

Kathryn’s voice softened a touch. “Oh, Chakotay. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Give me some credit.” This time she did roll her eyes and unable to face the hurt look in his, she turned towards the exit once more, but not before she heard the rumble of whispers wash like a tidal wave through the crowd.

Head held high, Kathryn strode towards the holodeck doors, leaving Chakotay to deal with the aftermath of this stunning revelation. Seven ran across the room, her arms extended towards him, and Kathryn thought to herself that she couldn’t have choreographed the moment better if she’d tried.

The shocked gasps of the crew were the last thing she heard before she stepped through the doors and out into the corridor.

* * *

As the door slid shut behind her, she took a gulping breath and then pressed her hands together into her midriff to stop them from shaking.

The confrontation with Chakotay was something she’d been dreading for months even though she’d known it bound to happen sooner or later. It truly hadn’t been her intention to blow the whistle on his and Seven’s liaison quite so publicly but he’d left her little choice with his less than subtle broadcast of her suspected pregnancy.

It had proven one thing to her though – there was still something between them. If he’d really moved on, he wouldn’t have cared if she were having quintuplets to a Ferengi. It saddened her though, that their relationship had deteriorated to a point where their only interaction was to either ignore or goad one another.

An insistent voice in the back of her mind was asking the obvious question. If she and Chakotay had been together all along, would this fracture in their relationship have occurred or would the recognition and consummation of their bond have saved them from this dreadful impasse? Taking a shaky breath, Kathryn decided that the answer was too upsetting to contemplate and there was no point dwelling on it because she would never know. What was done was done. But it was just so sad.

Kathryn had a long and lonely walk back to her quarters.

* * *

Tom watched Kathryn leave Sandrine’s and had to stop himself from jumping to his feet and applauding. What a woman! She’d stuck it to Chakotay, but done it with class and finesse, then had the chutzpah to march out of there as though she didn’t care.

He knew better though, and would have dearly loved to follow her and see if she was okay but that move would only add fuel to an already rampant rumour mill. They’d both known that the confrontation was inevitable and Kathryn had been prepared for it, but it was upsetting and she’d be heartsore about the outcome.

It had been a roller coaster ride of a day and even though he was relieved for both his and Kathryn’s sake that the pregnancy scare was just that – a scare, he knew she’d been living with the fear-filled prospect for several days. He hadn’t spoken to her alone for a week but she’d seemed fine on duty and he was in awe of her ability to function under such pressure. The woman was a consummate actress and could convince anyone of anything if she wanted to; even that everything was fine when in fact her world was falling apart. Tonight had been something of a command performance.

The crowd in Sandrine’s were all still staring at Chakotay and Seven. Tom was surprised that the offending couple weren’t melting under the heated animosity of the glares aimed in their direction. Ayala and Dalby looked appalled, most of the female crew appeared horrified, and Harry’s chin was still dragging along the floor.

Tom’s mouth twisted into a wry grin as he watched Seven do what she did best – make a bad situation worse.

She clutched at Chakotay and demanded in her strident whine. “Why is everyone staring at us in this manner, Commander? Did you say something to the Captain that has upset the crew?”

Tom saw the older man’s eyes slowly close and open, then watched his fist clench as he desperately tried to keep his cool. He was fighting a losing battle however, and when Seven tried to divert him with the loaded suggestion of, “Chakotay, I do not want to stay here any longer. I wish to go back to your quarters and copulate,” there was a collective groan from the crowd and everyone, in unison, took a step away from the First Officer and his girlfriend.

Chakotay shrugged off Seven’s clutching hands and rounded on her. Tom couldn’t see his face but from the look on Seven’s it must have been a doozie. She took a step back as well, then turned and ran from the holodeck. All was not sunny in paradise and Tom had a feeling that this wasn’t the first time that they’d had a difference of opinion, nor would it be the last. His initial prediction that they wouldn’t go the distance was even more evident now, but sadly, the damage to the Captain and Commander’s personal relationship had already been done.

Tom watched as Chakotay moved towards the bar; all eyes were still on him, some were angry, others accusing, but none looked terribly sympathetic. Then, as something of a surprise, B’Elanna approached her old captain and friend.

Harry kicked Tom under the table and nodded towards the pair. “Should we step in, do you think?”

“Hell no. I’m not getting between those two, but I’ve got your back if you’re feeling brave.”

Harry gave Tom an aggrieved look. “Gee thanks.”

Chakotay and B’Elanna were close enough to Tom’s table that he could hear the gist of the conversation.

“What do you want, B’Elanna? Coming to gloat and say ‘I told you so’?”

She shrugged. “You don’t need to hear that from me. It’s pretty obvious and besides, it would be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Good point. Drink?”

“Blood wine, vintage – seeing as you’re buying.”

He called Sandrine over and ordered. The proprietress hissed at him as she unceremoniously plonked a beer and a tankard of blood wine in front of him, then huffed off to serve someone else. It appeared that Chakotay was persona non grata with the non-persons as well as the crew.

B’Elanna merely turned and raised an eyebrow. “Nice. So, screwing the Borg hasn’t worked out, huh?”

Chakotay glared at her. “And I suppose your latest experiment has been a huge success?”

She took a sip of her wine before she answered. “Touché, and if you must know, it’s been a disaster.”

Chakotay lifted his beer and turned towards her. “Fuck ups all around then. Cheers.”

As B’Elanna tapped her tankard against Chakotay’s glass, her eyes slid past his shoulder to met Tom’s astonished gaze. Their eyes held for a long moment before she looked back at her drinking companion and rested her arm on the bar.

* * *

Staring down at the tabletop, Tom wasn’t sure what to think. Did her look mean something? There was no animosity or anger in it; if he had to tag it with something, he would have said it was wistful. Could she be regretting her choices? But by the time he looked up again, she and Chakotay had moved to the other side of the room and were sliding into one of the booths well out of earshot and view.

Now thoroughly confused, Tom stood up and said a quick goodnight to Harry and the twins before wandering slowly out of Sandrine’s and back to his quarters.

He slumped into his sofa and stared at the blank screen of his television. He didn’t know what to think. What a hell of day! He’d had some interesting ones over the years but today had been a shocker. The good news was that Kathryn wasn’t pregnant and he was intensely relieved about that. Not that he didn’t want to have a family one day, and not because he didn’t care about Kathryn. He did; he was extremely fond of her, but as the mother of his children – he just couldn’t see it.

In his mind’s eye, it was still B’Elanna’s belly he saw slowly swelling with his child and both of them with a whole gaggle of quarter-Klingon kids, each of them with their mother’s brains and his sense of adventure. They’d make great babies; he just knew it. But as things stood, it wasn’t likely to ever happen, and he sighed loudly.

His combadge chirped. _“Janeway to Paris.”_

“Paris here, Captain.”

_“You’re alone?”_

“Yeah. You?”

_“Yes.”_

_“_ How are you?”

_“A little shaken up, to be honest, but okay. You?”_

“Still reeling a bit, too. B’Elanna spoke to Chakotay and well, I don’t know. It was just weird.”

_“Situation normal then.”_

Tom laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” There was a long pause on the line and he prompted. “Kathryn?”

_“You know we have to stop, don’t you?”_

He heaved a sigh then answered. “Yeah, I figured.”

_“I’m sorry. It’s been wonderful. I want you to know that you probably saved my life – again, and I truly mean that. I wasn’t in a good place, but your friendship and the freedom and fun we’ve had together has made a world of difference.”_

“I’d like to think that we can still be friends. It would be a real tragedy if we let that go.”

_“I agree. Friends it is. So ‘buddy’, what shall we do?”_

“Breakfast in the Mess hall tomorrow with Harry and the twins. You can spring for coffee.”

Tom was pleased to hear the laughter in her voice as she answered. _“It’s a date. See you there, Lieutenant.”_

“Sleep well, Captain.”

* * *

Tapping the connection closed, Kathryn placed her combadge and pips on her bedside table before moving into the bathroom. She regretted that her trysts with Tom were at an end. She’d had a wonderful time, but things had escalated to a point where it would only cause further hurt and possible problems with Starfleet if they were to continue. Without the constant worry of being caught or discovered would, in many ways, make it easier to spend time together. Friendship without certain benefits but nonetheless and abiding one. She smiled, and then turned on the shower.

She was ready for bed, but unable to sleep, and wandered back out to the living area to indulge in one last cup of coffee. Staring out at the black star-studded vista, her thoughts turned to B’Elanna. The look on her face tonight still haunted Kathryn and she hoped for Tom’s sake that it meant there was still a second chance for him and the woman he loved.

She wished the same thing for herself but didn’t see how she and Chakotay could ever recover from this stalemate. They’d both played a part in betraying the precious trust that they’d forged so early in their journey. Hurt and angry, she’d been willing to lay the blame at his door but if she was brutally honest with herself, she was answerable too. It pained her to think back to those first tentative steps towards friendship that they’d taken at the beginning of the journey – the same friendship that had so quickly deepened into profound respect and genuine affection. Their harmonious command style had led the way for the crew to meld into the amazing cohesive unit they were now. All those battles they’d fought side by side and those heady weeks they’d spent on New Earth learning about, and from, one another, had sealed their fate, or so she’d thought. Together they’d forged such a unique bond that it sapped her soul to think that they’d been so careless about letting it slip away.

It had all changed when Kes left and Seven had arrived. If only she’d known what the young Borg’s presence would eventually bring to bear on her and Chakotay’s lives. It still eluded her as to why he would be interested in someone like Seven but then, he’d always had a weakness for blondes.

He was unhappy though. She could read it clearly in his eyes, and in the echo of yearning that she’d witnessed in his gaze tonight. It had pulled painfully at her heartstrings, but there was nothing she could do while he was still involved with the younger woman. Aunt Lottie’s voice straddled the light-years, her strident words loud in Kathryn’s mind. “You make your bed; you sleep in it, liebchen.”

It was sad but true and it made her so sorry to think that, despite what could have been, a future for her and Chakotay was destined not to be.

With a heavy heart, she recycled her cup and walked back into the bedroom. She pulled down the bedcovers, slid beneath the cool sheets and curled into a ball. Her life certainly hadn’t taken her on the journey that she had imagined it would and she wondered what was in store for her in the coming years. Taking a deep breath, she clamped a lid on the past, pleased that she’d visited it one last time before she said good-bye to it forever.

With that thought, Kathryn closed her eyes and sank into a sleep of complete exhaustion. Her dreams plagued by sporadic visions of plasma storms, strong arms, and laughing blue eyes.

### Chapter Nine

Kathryn woke the following morning and dragged herself from her bed. She’d slept for eight hours straight, the most she’d had in one night for months, but she didn’t feel rested.

She’d promised Tom that she would meet him in the Mess hall, so she readied herself for work.

After seven years as captain, her routine was so well established that she could do it with her eyes closed and on a day like today, when she could barely prise them open, it was useful. She was soon ready, and with her second cup of coffee in hand, strode out of her quarters and headed to deck two.

Greeted by several smiling crewmembers she passed, Kathryn’s spirits began to lift and she silently urged herself to be positive about what lay ahead. Today was a new day and looking on the bright side, there was no one shooting at them, no ship-destroying phenomena hovering close by and the warp core wasn’t breaching. They had their health and their sanity – mostly. Things could be a hell of a lot worse so it was time to suck it up and get on with it. Something, somewhere would point her in the right direction and then she would know where her future lay.

With a beaming smile, she entered the Mess hall and after picking up a small bowl of today’s mystery meal, made her way to the table where Tom, Harry, Megan and Jenny were sitting in deep discussion. Harry stood up and gave her his seat and, while everyone exchanged greetings, he pulled over a chair from a nearby table and sat down again.

As Kathryn poked at her breakfast, trying to decide if it was animal or vegetable, she caught the last few snippets of Jenny Delaney’s conversation.

“Yes, I think we should be able to create the subspace tensor matrix. It’s not that dissimilar to the technology used to create the micro wormhole that links us to the MIDAS array. We just have to make it _a whole lot_ bigger.”

Kathryn looked at Jenny. “This sounds interesting.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “It is, Captain. Jen, Megan and I have been discussing this for a few days. We haven’t worked out all the potential glitches yet but we think that we might be able to create an artificial wormhole back to the Alpha Quadrant.”

Kathryn was about to take a mouthful of food but lowered her hand slowly, her spoon plonking back into her bowl. She pushed it away and leaned forward, urging Harry to continue. “Go on, Harry.”

He glanced at both the Delaney women and then back to Kathryn before he began to explain. “Since we’ve been in regular contact with Starfleet, I’ve received several encrypted communication packages from Reg Barclay. They’ve been piggybacked onto my and the Doctor’s letters from home. Reg has been busy keeping his ear to the ground, gathering any and all information he can find that might help us get back to the Alpha Quadrant. Some of the concepts are just short of insane and others are beyond our capabilities with our limited resources, but we think we may have stumbled on something that – with a bit of tweaking and some Delta Quadrant know how thrown in – we can use.”

Harry nodded at Megan and she continued. “We’ve already got some virtual models up in the holodeck and with a bit more help we could have a working model to test in real space/time fairly soon. We were going to ask your approval, Captain, for the next phase, and were wondering if you’d come down to the holodeck to have a look at our research.”

Kathryn jagged to her feet, then looked around at the startled faces at the table. “This is your show, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s go.”

Megan grinned and jumped to her feet. Jenny and Harry quickly followed, and Tom, after shoving his last piece of toast into his mouth, and wiping his face on his napkin, leapt up and trailed behind the eager foursome.

* * *

In the holographic lab, Kathryn stood back, her eyes alight with enthusiasm and her mouth set in a permanent smile. “This is remarkable.” She picked up a PADD from the workstation and studied the stats. “And an impressive amount of research. This looks more than promising. When do you think you’ll have the working model up and running?”

Harry glanced at Tom, and then back at her. “If we could have some help, it would be great. I know B’Elanna would love to be involved if you can spare her from Engineering.”

Without a word, Kathryn tapped her combadge. “Janeway to Torres.”

_“B’Elanna here, Captain, what can I do for you?”_

“I’m in Holodeck Two; could you come up here, there’s something you need to see. Hand over Engineering to Mr. Carey for the time being.”

_“I’m on my way. Torres out.”_

Kathryn looked up at Tom and he gave her a smiling shrug. She wasn’t sure how things stood between him and B’Elanna but she hoped being in the same room wouldn’t cause either of them any grief. She trusted them to behave in a mature manner about this all-important new project, and leave their personal feelings for a more appropriate time and place.

The doors opened and B’Elanna stepped into the re-creation, and whistled quietly. “Harry Kim, what have you been up to? Aren’t they keeping you busy enough on the Bridge” She gave Kathryn a rare smile.

Harry shook his head and Kathryn’s mouth twitched as the corners as he puffed up with pride. “I’m not the one responsible. This is all Jen and Megan’s doing. I was just the go-fetch guy.”

He handed B’Elanna a PADD. “We’re trying to generate an artificial wormhole – a big one; these are the specs and this is what we’ve got so far. I’ve got all Dr. Kahn’s project notes and theories from her tests on the Defiant a few years ago, plus some of the information from the Sikarian transfer matrix and other bits and pieces.”

Tom handed her another PADD, smiling as he did so. “And these are the specifications for generating the subspace tensor matrix. For the target drone, we figured we could modify one of our Borg enhanced probes. And with the improved shielding, it should be able to tolerate the magneton pulse and won’t interfere with the tetryon field within the wormhole.”

Kathryn was pleased to see B’Elanna take her time and nod her thanks to Tom as she took the PADD.

His eyes met Kathryn’s over B’Elanna’s shoulder and she smiled warmly at him. His eyes lit with delight. Things were looking up.

B’Elanna frowned intently over the information on the PADD before looking up and addressing her fellow crewmates. “Generating the subspace matrix is going to be tricky. To make it big enough and reach far enough, it will have to be somewhere in the forty to forty-five thousand cochrane range and that’s going to take some doing.” Kathryn took a step forward and took one side of the PADD, sharing it with B’Elanna as they both studied the specs.

Kathryn pointed to the PADD. “If we realign the deflector and use it essentially as an amplifier, I think we can generate enough power.”

B’Elanna glanced at Kathryn and, at her nod, the engineer looked towards the others. “Shall we get started? Megan and Jenny, show me what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”

Megan gestured for B’Elanna to follow and together the three women quickly became engrossed in the information on the console. Harry and Tom glanced at one another and Kathryn laughed at the look on their faces.

“You are both assigned to this project as well; they’ll need some ‘go-fetch guys’. Tom, please keep me apprised of progress and B’Elanna…?”

“Yes, Captain.” She turned from the far console.

“I’d like daily reports on your findings and projections. And if you need anything, let me know. The replicator is at your disposal but I don’t want to find any streamers, balloons or scraps of party food down here. Tom, are you listening?”

He snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am; open replicator, no parties, got it.”

They all laughed quietly before turning back to consoles and PADDs.

Kathryn stood and watched her staff – her incredibly talented and innovative staff – as they went about the business of creating a way home for Voyager and her crew.

This was the sign she’d been waiting for and she suddenly felt great hope for their collective futures.

* * *

Tom rang the chime on Kathryn’s door.

He had with him the latest stats from the wormhole project and B’Elanna had sent him to get Kathryn’s approval so they could move on to the next stage of the development.

The doors opened and she called from the bedroom. “Come in, Tom.”

He’d just stepped over the threshold as Chakotay rounded the corner from the turbo lifts, and in the same moment, Kathryn emerged from her bedroom. Tom turned to find the commander standing in the open doorway, staring back and forth between him and Kathryn.

This was awkward.

In the next second, he was witness to a classic Janeway move as she smiled and then gestured to the man in the doorway. “Commander, come in. You’ll want to hear this as well. Coffee or tea, anyone?”

Tom had to take his hat off to her; she was truly cool in a crisis. The same couldn’t be said for her First Officer though. He tentatively walked into her quarters, acknowledged Tom with a brisk nod and then stood at parade rest just inside the doors.

“Tom, you’ll have coffee. Commander would you like a cup of tea?”

Tom thought he’d better get the ball rolling, so he answered with a cheery, “Thanks Captain. That’d be great.”

She turned to look at Chakotay and Tom had to stop himself from poking the older man to get him to answer.

He was clearly uncomfortable but Tom decided that wasn’t his problem and took a seat at the table while Kathryn gathered the drinks.

Pulling her computer console towards him, Tom transferred the information from the PADD he brought with him and then sat waiting while Chakotay and Kathryn got themselves sorted.

Kathryn placed his coffee on the table in front of him and Tom thanked her. Then she motioned for Chakotay to sit in the corner seat while she positioned herself next to Tom so they could all see the computer screen.

Sitting between the two members of the command team, Tom gave his report. About five minutes into it, Chakotay touched Tom’s arm to interrupt him and then leant forward to address Kathryn.

“This is a lot further along that I thought it would be at this stage. We’re not rushing things are we?”

Kathryn shook her head and chuckled. “No, we’re taking every precaution. Don’t you trust me?” She smiled and her eyebrow quirked with the question.

The look Chakotay gave her held a glimmer of the old camaraderie, and his face softened into a smile. For a moment, Tom felt as though he was very much the third wheel. After a loaded moment, he cleared his throat quietly and pointed to the next item on the report.

The rest of the discussion went smoothly; both Kathryn’s and Chakotay’s recommendations were recorded and Tom wrapped up the meeting. “I’ll get these back to B’Elanna and the team. You both might want to come down and have a look at how things are going. The probe is ready and Seven is using long range scans to find a suitable piece of real estate to test it.”

Tom almost winced when he said Seven’s name but there was no way to avoid it. Neither Kathryn nor Chakotay reacted, which was a relief. It made him wonder though. Over the last couple of weeks, he’d been so caught up in the project that he hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening on the relationship front. He wasn’t even sure if Seven and Chakotay were still together.

Not that her really cared, except for the fact that he wanted Kathryn to be happy and that happiness was inextricably linked to her first officer. He was pleased, though, to see that they were at least being civil to one another. But it was no secret that they had a long hard haul ahead of them, a freighter load of issues to deal with and a ton of hurt to get over before they could move on.

This was a start though, and with a smile, Tom left Kathryn’s quarters.

* * *

After Tom left, Kathryn offered Chakotay another cup of tea. She could see that he was about to refuse but changed his mind and nodded.

“Thank you.”

She turned towards the replicator and took a deep breath; then, with fresh cups of tea and coffee in hand, turned back to him with a smile. “It’s difficult, but I’m trying not to get too excited about the possibility of this experiment being a success. For the first time in years, though, probably since we used the slipstream drive, I have a really good feeling about our chances. What are your thoughts, Commander?”

Kathryn saw him blink slowly at her use of his rank rather than his name even though they were alone. It was intentional and her way of maintaining distance between them. She couldn’t blame him for noticing but he had to grant her the time and space to let their friendship evolve slowly and naturally from its damaged state. There was still a long way to go before they were even close to sharing the same easy sense of comradeship they’d known for years. She was heartened though that in the last few weeks she’d seen glimmers of hope for them.

Although he was still with Seven, the current rumours told of a definite cooling down of that relationship. Be that as it may, Kathryn was light years from considering any sort of reconciliation on a deeper level, and if friends were all they could be, then she would be content with that. Who knew what was in store for them when they got back to the Alpha Quadrant. There was a completely new life waiting for them there; it was the ultimate opportunity to turn over a new leaf.

She smiled at the thought.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Chakotay’s rigid countenance and voice softened. “You’re smiling. I was just wondering what you were thinking about.”

Kathryn shrugged. “Home and what might be in store for us when we get there.”

“Prison, most likely.”

Her head shot up and she stared at him but her tone was resolute. “No. There will be _no_ prison.”

“You may have forgotten but a third of your crew are still criminals in the eyes of Starfleet.”

“No they’re not. The Maquis will not be going to prison on our return. I can promise you that.”

“I’m not sure that it’s something you can promise, Kathryn.”

“I’ll stake my reputation on it.” She narrowed her eyes as he quirked an eyebrow at her. “And I’ll get it in writing from Admiral Hayes before Voyager’s bow crosses the threshold of that wormhole. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Kathryn would fight tooth and nail to get the Maquis acquitted before they reached the Alpha Quadrant. The Aladdin’s cave of technology they carried with them, not to mention the wormhole technology – if it worked – would mean that all the bargaining chips were hers and she would use them to her advantage if cornered. Spending seven years as the captain of the only Federation vessel in the Delta Quadrant had taught her to play hardball. She wouldn’t let the Maquis down.

Silence sat like a leaden blanket around them and the thrum of the engines seemed to get louder and louder in the quiet. Eventually, Chakotay pushed his cup back and stood. “I’d better get back to my reports. Thank you for the tea and the update.”

Kathryn stood as well and nodded. “You’re welcome. We’re having another briefing tomorrow at 1500 in Holodeck Two; join us if you want to see the working model. I think you’ll be impressed.”

“Sure; I’ll hand over to Tuvok and meet you there.” He took a step away and then turned back. “Good night, Kathryn.”

She didn’t move but smiled. “Good night, Chakotay.

She saw the look in his eyes brighten at the use of his name; he then turned and left without another word.

* * *

Tom was astonished at how quickly the whole project came together and decided that there was nothing that Voyager’s crew couldn’t accomplish when they put their minds to it. They were a formidable force in any quadrant. Watch out, Earth.

B’Elanna’s input had been pivotal and every day she seemed to be less and less surly. They’d talked many times, mostly about the project and he’d even seen her laughing at a joke that Megan had made the day before. The Delaney twins were loud and raucous, but they were loads of fun, and the entire process of manufacturing the hardware and configuring the ins and outs of the matrix had been filled with laughter and joy. Tom just hoped that it worked.

They desperately needed to go home. They were all growing weary and if they had to stay out here much longer, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever make it back. But he had high hopes for this venture and grinned at Harry as they changed the relay circuits in the deflector array in preparation for their first attempt at creating the large artificial wormhole.

“What are you grinning about, Tom?”

“Just thinking about getting home. Aren’t you excited too? I thought you’d be getting ready to hop out and push.”

Harry shrugged. “I know I’ve been eager to get home for years but I’m happy here; in a way, I feel like I’m already home.”

Tom studied his friend for a moment. “You’re all grown up, aren’t you, Harry?”

Harry frowned. “God, I hope not.” Then he laughed and pointed to the hyperspanner at Tom’s feet. “Pass the ‘interocitor,’ Paris, and stop thinking so hard; you’ll damage something.”

Tom tossed him the tool and smiled broadly. Harry had a point; Voyager was home in so many ways, but Earth still beckoned.

### Chapter Ten

The day of the first test arrived and after one final briefing, the senior Bridge crew took their places at their stations and waited for orders.

The entire wormhole concept was a hodge-podge of theories and technologies. They’d used Borg targeting techniques, a Sikarian trajectory matrix, a large chunk of Dr. Lenora Kahn’s wormhole theories, and some of B’Elanna’s and the Captain’s own special blend of inspired engineering and technical wizardry.

The crew had been brought up to speed the night before and adding to the exclamations of stunned disbelief, was a tangible level of expectation and excitement. All eyes were glued to viewscreens and consoles as the warp core was re-routed through the deflector array. From her station on the Bridge, B’Elanna was monitoring the cochrane level as it slowly built up to the estimated twenty thousand range necessary for the experiment to be a success.

Kathryn turned to Chakotay. “Release the target drone.”

“Aye, Captain. Drone released.”

There was the faintest thud as the modified probe was ejected from the ship. They watched as it headed across open space to its pre-programmed destination.

Tom swore that the entire Bridge crew were holding their breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Tuvok’s dour voice almost made him jump when the Vulcan announced, “Target drone is at set co-ordinates.”

Then B’Elanna began to count aloud. “Eighteen thousand cochranes, eighteen fifty, nineteen thousand, nineteen twenty five, nineteen fifty.” She lifted her hand, “Nineteen seventy five, nineteen ninety.” They all waited. “Twenty thousand cochranes. Mark.” B’Elanna’s hand dropped and Kathryn turned to Harry.

“Send the pulse. And Harry, keep those sensors on that drone, monitor those shields.” She turned to Seven. “Any sign of a building graviton shock wave?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Keep your eye on it, Seven. Tom, be ready to get us out of here if a shock wave forms.”

He nodded. “I’ve got my finger on the button, Captain. Just give the word.”

Her eyes darted to his and she gave him a brief smile before she looked back at the viewscreen.

They all waited, then Jenny spoke up from the science station. “An aperture’s forming. The diameter is enlarging.”

Kathryn moved over to the science station and peered over Jenny’s shoulder. “Fifty meters, one hundred. Maintain the pulse; let’s see if we can expand it to two hundred meters. That will give us plenty of leeway when we open the next one with the increased range of cochranes.”

Tom felt her presence behind him and he turned and smiled. She’d moved from the science station to monitor the viewscreen. Laying her hand on his shoulder, she gave it a quick squeeze before she moved back to the command deck and leaned, arms straight, gripping tightly the railing behind him. They endured a tense few moments before Jenny called from her station.

“Captain, the aperture is two hundred meters in diameter.”

“Steady the pulse, B’Elanna and let’s see where we are. Harry, can you get any readings from inside the wormhole?”

“Scanning Captain. We have Verteron emanations and tunnelling secondary particles. It’s definitely a wormhole.” Harry couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “I’m sending in a microprobe now.”

Again they waited.

“Telemetry is coming through loud and clear. It has exited the wormhole at the far end and from the configuration of the star fields; we are in the Alpha Quadrant. We’re home!”

Tom spun around and grinned at Harry, then caught B’Elanna’s eye and gave her a smile as well.

Kathryn was staring at the glowing aperture, her eyes riveted to the innocuous looking vortex, but after taking a deep breath, she stood straight and turning, marched back to her chair.

“We’re not there quite yet, Ensign. Let’s close this one, analyse the data and go from there. B’Elanna reduce the cochrane level, Tuvok ease off on the magneton pulse.”

They all watched as the aperture slowly shrank and then disappeared.

Silence reigned once more but Tom couldn’t stand it so he turned and grinned at everyone and began to clap. Jenny and Megan joined in and then the whole Bridge crew were applauding one another.

They’d done it.

* * *

And it worked like a charm.

Their second attempt, several days later, using an increased Cochrane range had opened a four hundred metre diameter wormhole that led from the Delta quadrant to their home quadrant. Voyager had slipped through the yawning aperture and fifteen minutes later exited without a glitch.

Kathryn beamed at her Bridge crew before she sat slowly in her captain’s chair to stare at the stars. It could very well be one of the last times she sat in this spot; here on her Bridge surrounded by the brave men and women who had risked their all to bring Voyager home.

The familiar stars of the Alpha Quadrant filled the viewscreen and Kathryn let the moment settle around them before she turned to Harry.

“Where are we, Ensign?”

“Oh, ummm…”

She caught Chakotay’s eye and smiled before she looked behind him again towards the Ops station.

“We exited the wormhole half a light year from Alpha Centauri Prime. We’re approximately five light years from Earth.”

“Excellent, just where we’re meant to be. Tuvok, is the wormhole still patent?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Send a graviton beam through the aperture to seal it. We don’t want any of our less desirable Delta Quadrant friends to stumble upon it and follow us through.”

“Graviton beam activated.”

The viewscreen changed to a rear view and they watched as the wormhole collapsed and disappeared, leaving only a backdrop of stars.

Kathryn stood and looked around her Bridge, smiling at the familiar faces of her crew. She had no doubt that the sensors from Proxima maintenance yards would have picked up the wormhole and their arrival. They wouldn’t have much time to prepare themselves for the onslaught of Starfleet and Federation enquiries.

Almost before she’d finished the thought there was a beep from the comm. console. Looking up at Harry, she gave him a wry smile. “No rest for the wicked.”

He grinned. “Incoming message from Starfleet.”

“On screen.”

It was Owen Paris – a stunned looking Owen Paris. “Captain Janeway?!”

“Sorry to surprise you. Next time we’ll call ahead.”

“Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be here.”

Kathryn wandered down to the helm to lend Tom support. Seeing Owen for the first time in over seven years would be an emotional experience for him; she knew how much he longed for his father’s approval.

Placing her hand on Tom’s shoulder as a show of trust and pride, she waited for Owen to say something to his son.

Owen’s intense gaze never left hers. “How did you…?”

“It will all be in my report, sir.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” His gaze flicked down to where Tom was sitting at the helm and Kathryn watched the older man’s eyes harden with disdain. It shocked her to think that that after all they’d been through, his father couldn’t bring himself to forgive Tom’s past indiscretions. Knowledge of his son’s selfless commitment to the mission, the glowing reports she’d sent to Starfleet citing his outstanding service and unwavering loyalty had made no difference to his father’s ingrained misconceptions. It seemed unnecessarily harsh and cruelly hurtful considering their circumstances.

Kathryn turned to Harry and gestured for him to cut the transmission. She didn’t care if she offended them; Tom didn’t need to endure the agony or the humiliation.

This was a time for celebration and approbation, not a time to rehash old wounds and unresolved grievances. She wouldn’t allow Owen to do that to his son. She was still Tom’s captain, responsible for him and his wellbeing; and if that meant protecting him from his own father’s unwarranted and misguided animosity, she’d do just that.

Squeezing his shoulder, she gave it an encouraging pat before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. There would be a long list of things to accomplish before they landed on Earth and she needed to speak to the senior staff about her plans.

Staying close to Tom, she turned her back to the viewscreen and asked Harry to open a shipwide channel.

Harry gave her a nod and she addressed the crew. “Welcome home, everyone. What we’ve achieved is a monumental accomplishment and a credit to each and every one of you. But there are some issues that we need to deal with before we leave Voyager and resume out lives here in the Alpha Quadrant. Could all senior staff meet me in the Briefing room in five minutes? And there will be a briefing for the entire crew in Cargo Bay one in an hour. We’ll maintain comm. silence for now. No outgoing messages and don’t answer any incoming ones either. They’ve waited seven years; they can wait an hour or two more.”

Kathryn strode across the deck to her Ready room and disappeared through the doors to a chorus of, “Yes, ma’am’s”

She stood just inside the doors and smiled broadly; no matter how many death glares she’d delivered over the years, she’d never really cured them of calling her that.

Her door chimed. “Come.”

She took a few steps further into the room and turned to find Chakotay standing at her door. “Are you all right, Kathryn?”

With a brisk nod, she answered. “Yes, but concerned.” She waved him into the room. “Do you remember our discussion from a few weeks ago when we talked about the status of the Maquis?”

“Yes, vividly.”

“I thought you might. Well, I’ve been trying to pin Hayes down to get him to give me a definitive answer in regard to your status but he’s been elusive and evasive. He’s a hard nut to crack but from what I gather, you have a lot of support both from the general public and from a large contingent of Starfleet. The Dominion War was an eye opener for most of the Federation and with Cardassia in ruins; the general consensus is that it would be detrimental to Starfleet’s reputation to attempt any litigious actions against Voyager’s Maquis crew.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust them as far as I can kick them.” She shrugged and gestured towards the upper level of the room. While ordering a tea and coffee from the replicator, she continued talking. “Too many years in the Delta Quadrant is my problem, I think. My gut instinct for swindlers and frauds is highly attuned these days and there’s nothing I hate more than being conned. So…” She handed Chakotay his mug and took a seat. He sat beside her. “So, I’ve come up with a plan.”

“You wouldn’t be Kathryn Janeway without a plan.”

She glanced at him with a smile but frowning slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

He smiled. “So, your plan?”

“It’s what I want to discuss with the senior staff but I’d like your opinion before I put it to everyone.” She took a couple of rejuvenating sips of her coffee then placed her cup on the table and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m going to take hostage all the technology and information we’ve brought back from the Delta Quadrant.”

Kathryn had to hand it to the man; he was a cool customer. Only she would have noticed the nanosecond of surprise that washed across Chakotay’s features.

His voice remained even. “Interesting.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Also career destroying. Do you really want to do that, Kathryn?”

“They’ve left me little choice but I’m not concerned about my career. I have a feeling that it might be over anyway. Once they’ve been through my logs and seen some of the things I’ve done over my seven years as captain, well, I’ll be lucky to get the pension.”

He frowned worriedly. “But Starfleet is your life.”

She shook her head. “No, Voyager has been my life. And honestly, I don’t know whether I could go back to being ordered around by the likes of some of the pompous asses I’ve had to deal with over the last couple of weeks. I’ve been on my own for too long.”

Kathryn cringed inwardly. She’d meant in regard to her captaincy without back up for the last seven years; of not having to answer to anyone else but her own conscience and interpretation of Starfleet edicts. To clarify she added. “The likelihood of getting another command is remote and as for being deskbound, I’d rather join the Mark One holograms in the dilithium mines – at least there I’d be doing something useful.”

Chakotay placed his mug on the table beside hers and leaning forward, took both of her hands in his. It was the first time he’d touched her in months and she wasn’t sure what to think. His gaze was intense. “I’m sure it won’t come to that but I’ll stand by your decision, Kathryn. You’re not alone in this.”

For one heart stopping moment, her memories threw her back to a day many years ago, a pivotal moment in their command just before their first encounter with the Borg. They’d been standing in this very spot when he’d promised her that she wasn’t alone and she’d told him that she couldn’t imagine a day without him.

Her combadge chirped and Seven’s strident voice shattered the moment. _“Seven to Janeway.”_

Chakotay’s eyes dulled and Kathryn guessed that imagining those days would have to begin. She pulled her hands from Chakotay’s and tapped her combadge as she stood. “Janeway here.”

_“The senior staff are waiting for you and the Commander in the Briefing room. Also, our communication system is being flooded with messages from Starfleet, Federation news agencies and individuals wishing to speak to you and crew. What are your orders?”_

“Maintain comm. silence and I’m on my way.”

Chakotay was now standing beside her and without another word, they both exited the Ready Room and crossed the Bridge to the Briefing room.

* * *

To protect the Maquis, the Equinox five and Tom from the likelihood of incarceration, it was agreed that Seven would encrypt all the relevant information using her own particular Borg algorithms and store it on Borg data nodes – this was to be Seven’s insurance as well. A rehabilitated Borg drone was hot property and to keep her well away from Starfleet scientists, or anyone else who might want to see how she ticked, it was necessary to make her indispensable.

Once the information was stored on the nodes, the Doctor was given the task of secreting them somewhere. Only he would be privy to their whereabouts and this was a means of guaranteeing his safety as well. Kathryn was well aware of how desperately Starfleet would want to get their hands on his mobile emitter but without it, he was virtually a prisoner and she wasn’t going to let that happen to him. Starfleet would have to play by her rules in this part of the game.

She just hoped that they all didn’t finish up in a Federation penal colony. After everything they’d been through it would be a cruel coda to their ordeal. But then again, as Tom had quipped, it wasn’t so bad; three meals a day, plenty of sunshine and at least they’d all be together.

As much as Kathryn hated to admit it, he had a point.

* * *

Tom wished that he’d had a holo-camera when Kathryn gave Hayes and his father her ultimatum.

Owen Paris looked as though he might have done something dire to his circulatory system. Tom didn’t think a face could turn that shade of purple without something rupturing internally and Hayes was positively apoplectic – a word Tom had never used to describe anyone. Boy, they’d really underestimated Kathryn Janeway and he had a feeling that they wouldn’t be making that same mistake again.

In the end, the bargain was struck painlessly and without bloodshed. As Kathryn had so succinctly put it, all the cards were in their hand and it was just a matter of negotiating with Starfleet admiralty for his, the Maquis and the Equinox five’s unequivocal release. Starfleet capitulated without a fight. The cache of technology was too enticing to quibble over a handful of has-been terrorists and now rehabilitated ‘fleeters. Each and every crewmember was given a hefty credit allowance with field commissions upheld and positions opened for those crew wishing to remain with Starfleet, while generous pensions were offered to those leaving the service.

Starfleet got their grasping hands on all the wondrous technology and information from across the galaxy, so everyone was happy. Or close to it.

Tom decided that he’d had enough of Starfleet and its hardline hypocrisy, and he took great delight in handing his resignation to his father. Owen had berated him, telling him that he wasn’t surprised and that he’d always be a loser and a ne’er-do-well.

As hurtful as it was to listen to the tirade, Tom let the words wash over him. He knew that what his father was saying wasn’t true and that he was by far a better man than he gave him credit.

Tom was now older and wiser and didn’t need his father’s approval to feel worthwhile or valued. For the first time in his life, he was able to see Owen for the sad and pathetic man that he was and when his father had finished bellowing at him, Tom simply looked at the older man and told him sadly, “I’m sorry that you feel that way, Dad. I love you; you’re my father and the only one I have. One day I hope you can see past your anger and hate, and learn to respect me for the man I’ve become. Call me if you ever want to talk.”

He’d turned and walked away without looking back, but in doing so, he was overcome by a breathtaking sense of emancipation. He was free and had finally shaken loose from the chokehold of his father’s disparaging attitude – one that had held him hostage for too long. He didn’t need his father or his approval anymore. It was a wonderful feeling.

With that part of his return now accomplished, there were just a few minor details to nut out – such as where he was going to live and what he was going to do with the rest of his life – but he had a bit of time up his sleeve to work that out.

The crew had all dispersed, many going back to their home planets and others settling in places away from the limelight to regroup and find their feet in this old but new environment.

B’Elanna had gone to Boreth, one of the Klingon home worlds, to locate her mother, but had plans to return to Earth eventually.

She’d made a point of finding him before she left to wish him well and to apologise for what she’d done. They’d ventured no further than the apology but there was a definite sense of reconciliation in the air. Just before she’d left, Tom had relented and pulled her into his arms for a quick embrace. B’Elanna had given him a rare smile and he’d watched her leave with high hopes for them on her return.

Chakotay and Seven had left the ship together and were living somewhere in North America trying to make a go of it. For them, he didn’t have high hopes, but he’d felt for Kathryn as she’d watched them leave the ship. They’d said a cursory good bye to the Captain and other members of the crew but as they’d debarked, Chakotay had turned back to look at her and Tom had seen the anguish in his eyes. What would happen was anyone’s guess. Although, from the expression on big man’s face, it didn’t take a genius to know what he wanted. Whether Kathryn would consider it, was another matter. She was torn. Tom knew that Seven’s welfare was still a responsibility that she acknowledged and to break the young woman’s heart by stealing away her first love was not something that Kathryn could condone.

Only time would tell.

Harry and the twins had moved into a house close by his parents and Mr. and Mrs. Kim had fallen head over heels in love with Jenny and Megan. Tom imagined his friend in a few years time with raucous house filled with a brood of kids. It was great to see.

Tuvok was back on Vulcan with his family and much to everyone’s surprise, he had invited Neelix to accompany him. He was helping the lone Talaxian establish a restaurant in the tourist district of Shi’Kahr. Apparently, it was doing a roaring trade – there was no accounting for taste – and with barely a ripple, Neelix had settled into Vulcan life.

Leaving his father’s office, Tom stepped out of the lift into the foyer of the Admiralty building to find Kathryn waiting for him.

She smiled and they greeted one another warmly, with a kiss on the cheek.

He stepped back and looked her up and down. She was wearing civilian clothes. “What a lovely surprise. So, I take it I’m talking to the former Captain Kathryn Janeway?”

Kathryn nodded at him and shrugged. “Mr. Tom Paris, I presume?”

He grinned. “Uh huh. I just handed my resignation to my father. He didn’t take it well.”

Her smile faded a little. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good actually. Really good. Unemployed, homeless, but… good.”

“Seems to be going around but I’m glad that you’re okay.”

He smiled as Kathryn tucked her arm through his and they began to make their way to the exit.

Once outside, they stood on the top step of the building’s entrance for a moment and looked across the grounds of Starfleet. Tom squeezed Kathryn’s arm against his side. “You okay?”

“It’s a little harder than I thought it would be. This wasn’t quite what I’d imagined on our return but I know that I’ve done the right thing in resigning. There was no other choice.”

“Your life has been ruled by doing the ‘right thing’ for so long, Kathryn, that I think we need to go and do a whole lot of ‘wrong things’ to address the imbalance. How about we go and get smashed. I’m buying.”

Tom watched her laugh at him, and he grinned happily.

“I can’t promise that I’ll get smashed, but a drink would be good and then we’d best think about finding somewhere to stay.”

“Looking for a roomie?”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “You know what; I think that’s a great idea. Let’s find a bar with computer consoles so we can hunt for a house while we kill some brain cells.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He watched Kathryn’s eyes cloud with sadness for a moment and bent lower to capture her gaze. “Kathryn?”

She smiled bravely. “That just reminded me of something someone said to me recently.”

Tom tugged her closer to his side and together they tromped down the stairs to make their way through Starfleet’s gardens, most likely for the last time.

He took a deep breath. “It’ll all work out, you know. I have a feeling.”

“A feeling? Now that’s very scientific of you.”

“You know me. An absolute swat at those erudite disciplines.”

Kathryn laughed. “I’ll remember that and never doubt you again.”

They were walking past one of old Boothby’s rose beds and Kathryn stopped.

“Just a moment, Tom. There’s something I have to do.”

He watched as Kathryn pulled her captain’s pips from her bag and took a moment to look at them lying in the palm of her hand. Then she bent down, dug a small hole in the garden beneath the peace roses and buried them there. Tom squatted down next to her to hold her hand.

He waited a moment until he thought she was ready for the question and asked, “Are you all right?”

She nodded but didn’t look at him.

“You know, they’re really just tiny chunks of metal.”

Kathryn nodded and then looked at him with a sombre glimmer in her eyes. “I know but it’s what they represented that saddens me. All those years, all those hopes.”

He knew what she meant but there was nothing they could do to change the past so he reached up, picked one of the roses from the nearest bush and placed it over the small smoothed patch of earth where her pips lay buried.

Then he turned to her. “All it means is that this the start of a new adventure. Let’s go home.”

Kathryn met his eyes and her face slowly broke into a wry smile. “Need I remind you, we don’t have a home.”

He had an idea. “Have you still got your Starfleet ID?”

She nodded and Tom grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, then walked her briskly to the nearest transporter station. He whispered in the ear of the operator and then, grinning, jumped up beside Kathryn on the transporter pad.

* * *

They materialised in a narrow cobble stoned street, presumably somewhere in Europe. It was early evening and the streetlights were just starting to sputter to life. Tom took Kathryn’s elbow and led her around the corner to an even narrower cobble stoned alleyway.

He was watching her face, waiting for the moment when recognition would dawn on her. And then it happened. Her eyes lit up and she grinned at him

The worn timber sign still hung from its rusty metal bracket and the dull painted lettering read, ‘Chez Sandrine à Marseilles’. They could hear a hubbub of voices and the clack of the balls on the pool table from where they stood just outside the doors.

Kathryn slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Tom.”

He returned her happy look and squeezed her hand tightly. “You never know, we might meet some old friends in here. Are you ready for the real thing?”

Together they stepped through the swinging glass and mahogany doors of the much-loved French establishment. It wasn’t quite home but for now, it would do.

fin


End file.
